"       •-  "     """•^••P^      *BBV^  ~^^        ^^^T 

j^-THEAUTHOROF 

JOHN  HENRY 


CM 
SAN 


DIEGO 


Ex  LIBRIS 
II.  GLAIR  CAXTELCW 


SKIDDOO! 


The  sweetest  picture  of  family  contentment 

I  have  ever  witnessed. — Page  86.  Frontispiece 


SKIDDOO! 


Bv  HUGH  McHUGH 

(George  V.  Hobart) 
AUTHOR  OF 

"JOHN  HENRY,"  "  DOWN  THB  LINE  WITH  JOHN  HENRY," 

"  IT'S  UP  TO  YOU,"  "  BACK  TO  THE  WOODS," 

"  OUT  FOR  THE  COIN,"  "  I  NEED  THE  MONEY," 

"I'M  PROM  MISSOURI,"  "YOU  CAN  SEARCH  ME," 

"GET  NEXT,"  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 
GORDON   H.  GRANT 


NEW   YORK 

G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  CO. 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1906, 

BY  G.  W.  DlLLINGHAM   Co. 


ISSUED  MARCH,  1906. 

Ail  rights  strictly  reserved,  and  any  infringement  o/ 
copyright  -will  be  dealt  with  according  to  law. 


SKIDDOOl 


Press  of  J.  J.  Little  &  Co. 
Astor  Place,  New  York. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

JOHN  HENRY  ON  UPPER  BERTHS   .     .    .  n 

JOHN  HENRY  ON  COOKS 25 

JOHN  HENRY  ON  PATRIOTISM    ....  40 

JOHN  HENRY  ON  MOSQUITOES  ....  48 

JOHN  HENRY  ON  STREET  CAR  ETIQUETTE  67 

JOHN  HENRY  ON  SOCIAL  AFFAIRS  .    .     .  81 

JOHN  HENRY  ON  CHAFING  DISHES     .    .  93 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PACE 

The  sweetest  picture  of  family  contentment 

I  have  ever  witnessed     .     Frontispiece  86 

I  made  a  short  prayer  and  concluded  to  fall 

out 23 

Ollie  was  half  Swede  and  the  rest  of  her  was 

deaf 27 

With  the  fire-crackers  cheering  him  on  .     .  45 

"  Ping-ding-a-zing-a-boom ! " 54 

"  Naw,  we  don't  take  no  transfers,  neederf  *  69 


To  the  five  hundred  and  seventy-five 
thousands  friends  who  have  made  this 
series  of  John  Henry  books  a  success  be- 
yond all  dreaming,  my  deepest  gratitude. 

To  the  Good  Fellows  of  the  Press  who 
have  looked  upon  John  Henry  with  the 
Eye  of  Understanding,  and  who,  realizing 
that  these  books  were  never  intended  to  be 
more  than  an  humble  form  of  entertain- 
ment, have  written  thereof  with  the  Pen  of 
Patience,  1  say  thank  you,  with  all  my 
heart. 

To  the  Busy  Little  Bunch  of  News- 
paper Knockers  who  have  so  assiduously 
plied  hammer  and  harpoon  since  this 
series  began,  I  want  to  say  that  575,000 


John  Henry  books  were  sold  up  to  March 
ist,  1906. 

There  is  your  answer,  O  Beloved  of  the 
Short  Arm  Jab! 

Ponder  thereon,  ye  Little  Brothers  of 
the  Knock-Out  Drops,  Five  Hundred  and 
Seventy-five  Thousand  books  sold  (and 
mine  is  twelve  per  cent,  of  the  gross}  while 
you  are  STILL  drawing  your  little  $i£  per 
and  STILL  singing  second  tenor  in  the 
Anvil  Chorus. 

Now  O,  sweet-scented  Companions  of 
the  Crimp,  and  Brethren  of  the  Double- 
Cross,  ask  your  weazened  little  souls  what's 
the  use  ? 

Skiddoo  for  yours  1 

G.  V.  H. 


SKIDDOO 

CHAPTER    I 

JOHN  HENKY  ON  UPPER  BERTHS 

I    WAS  down  on  the  card  to 
make  a  quick  jump  to 
Pittsburg  a  few  nights 
ago,  and  I'm  a  lemon  if  I  didn't 
draw  an  upper  berth  in  the  sleep- 
ing car  thing! 

Say!  I'll  be  one  of  a  party  of 
six  to  go  before  Congress  and  tell 
all  I  know  about  an  upper  berth. 
And  I'd  like  to  tell  it  right  now 
while  I'm  good  and  hot  around 
the  collar. 


12  SKIDDOO 

The  upper  berth  in  a  sleeping 
car  is  the  same  relation  to  com- 
fort that  a  carpet  tack  is  to  a  bare 
foot. 

As  a  place  to  tie  up  a  small 
bundle  of  sleep  a  boiler  factory 
has  it  beat  to  a  whimper. 

Strong  men  weep  every  time 
the  ticket  agent  says,  "  Nothing 
left  but  an  upper,"  and  lovely 
women  have  hysterics  and  begin 
to  make  faces  at  the  general  pub- 
lic when  the  colored  porter  points 
up  in  the  air  and  says,  * '  Madam, 
your  eagle's  nest  is  ready  far  up 
the  mountain  side." 

The  sleeping  car  I  butted  into 
a  few  nights  ago  was  crowded 
from  the  cellar  to  the  attic  and 
everybody  present  bumped  into 


JOHN  HENRY  ON   UPPER  BERTHS     13 

everybody  else,  and  when  they 
weren't  bumping  into  each  other 
they  were  over  in  a  corner  some- 
where biting  their  nails. 

While  the  porter  was  cooking 
up  my  attack  of  insomnia  I  went 
out  in  the  smoking-room  to 
drown  my  sorrow,  but  I  found 
such  a  bunch  of  sorrow  killers 
out  there  ahead  of  me  that  I  had 
to  hold  the  comb  and  brush  in 
my  lap  and  sit  up  on  the  towel 
rack  while  I  took  a' little  smoke. 

Did  you  ever  notice  on  your 
travels  that  peculiar  hog  on  the 
train  who  pays  two  dollars  for  a 
berth  and  always  displaces  eight 
dollars'  worth  of  space  in  the 
smoking  car? 

If  he  would  bite  the  end  of  a 


14  SKIDDOO 

piece  of  rope  and  light  up  occa- 
sionally it  wouldn  't  be  so  bad,  but 
nix  on  the  smoke  for  him. 

He  simply  sits  there  with  a  face 
like  a  fish  and  keeps  George  Nico- 
tine and  all  the  real  rag  burners 
from  enjoying  a  smoke. 

If  ever  a  statue  is  needed  of  the 
patriot  Buttinski  I  would  suggest 
a  model  in  the  person  of  the 
smokeless  smoker  who  always 
travels  in  the  smoking-car. 

Two  busy  gazabes  were  dis- 
cussing politics  when  I  squeezed 
into  the  smoker  on  this  particular 
occasion,  and  I  judge  they  both 
had  lower  berths,  otherwise  their 
minds  would  have  been  busy  with 
dark  and  personal  fears  of  the 
future. 


JOHN  HENRY   ON   UPPER  BERTHS     15 

"  Well,"  exclaimed  the  gabby 
one  from  Kansas  City,  "  what  is 
politics  ?  Well,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Politics,"  replied  Wise  Wil- 
lie from  Providence,  '  *  politics  is 
where  we  get  it— sometimes  in 
the  bank,  sometimes  in  the 
neck ! ' ' 

Everybody  present  peeled  the 
cover  off  a  loud  laugh  and  the 
smokeless  hog  at  the  window 
stole  four  inches  extra  space  so 
that  he  could  shake  more  when  he 
giggled. 

"  Well,"  resumed  the  inquisi- 
tive person  from  Kansas  City, 
"  what  is  a  politician?  Do  you 
know?  Eh,  well,  what  is  a  poli- 
tician?" 

' '  A  politician, '  '  replied  the  fat 


16  SKIDDOO 

man  from  Providence,  ' '  a  politi- 
cian is  the  reason  we  have  so 
much  politics." 

Much  applause  left  the  hands 
of  those  present,  and  the  smoke- 
less hog  turned  sideways  so  that 
he  could  make  the  others  more 
uncomfortable. 

"  Perhaps,"  insinuated  gabby 
Jim  from  Kansas  City,  "  perhaps 
you  know  what  a  statesman  is, 
ehf" 

"  A  statesman  is  a  politician 
in  good  luck, ' '  was  the  come-back 
from  our  fat  friend  from  Provi- 
dence, and  in  the  enthusiasm 
which  followed  the  smokeless  hog 
found  out  there  was  no  buffet  car 
on  the  train,  so  he  offered  to  buy 
the  drinks. 


JOHN  HENRY   ON   UPPER  BERTHS     17 

"  Don't  you  believe  that  all 
men  are  born  equal?"  inquired 
the  Kansas  Cityite. 

"  Yes,  but  some  of  them  have 
pull  enough  to  get  over  it,"  re- 
sponded the  Providence  philoso- 
pher, whereupon  the  smokeless 
hog  by  the  window  took  out  a 
flask  and  began  to  dampen  his 
conscience. 

Just  then  the  towel  rack  fell 
with  a  crash,  and  after  I  picked 
up  the  comb  and  the  brush  and 
myself  I  decided  to  retire  to  my 
bracket  on  the  wall  and  try  to 
sleep. 

When  I  left  the  smoker  the 
smokeless  hog  was  occupying  two 
and  a  half  seats  and  was  now 
busy  breathing  in  some  second- 


18  SKIDDOO 

hand  cigarette  smoke  which  no- 
body seemed  to  care  for. 

"  How  do  I  reach  my  Alpine 
bungalow  ? "  I  said  to  the  porter, 
whereupon  he  laughed  teethfully 
and  hit  me  on  the  shins  with  a 
step-ladder. 

The  spectacular  gent  who  occu- 
pied the  star  chamber  beneath 
my  garret  was  sleeping  as  noisily 
as  possible,  and  when  I  started 
up  the  step-ladder  he  began  to 
render  Mendelssohn's  obligate 
for  the  trombone  in  the  key  of  G. 

Above  the  roar  of  the  train 
from  away  off  in  lower  No.  2 
faintly  I  could  hear  an  answering 
bugle  call. 

I  climbed  up  prepared  for  the 
worst  and  in  the  twinkling  of  an 


eye  the  porter  removed  the  step- 
ladder  and  there  I  was,  sitting  on 
the  perilous  edge  of  my  pantry 
shelf  with  nothing  to  comfort  me 
save  the  exhaust  of  a  professional 
snorer. 

After  about  five  minutes  de- 
voted to  a  parade  of  all  my  sins 
I  began  to  try  to  extract  my  per- 
sonality from  my  coat,  but  when 
I  pushed  my  arm  up  in  the  air 
to  get  the  sleeve  loose  my 
knuckles  struck  the  hard-wood 
finish  and  I  fell  backward  on 
the  cast-iron  pillow,  breathing 
hoarsely  like  a  busy  jack  rabbit. 

I  waited  about  ten  minutes 
while  my  brain  was  bobbing  back 
and  forth  with  the  excitement  of 
running  fifty  miles  an  hour  over 


20  SKIDDOO 

a  careless  part  of  the  country, 
and  then  I  cautiously  tried  to  ap- 
proach my  shoe  laces. 

Say!  if  you're  a  man  and  you 
weigh  in  the  neighborhood  of  225 
pounds,  most  of  which  is  in  the 
region  of  the  equator,  you  will 
appreciate  what  it  means  to  lie 
on  your  back  in  an  upper  berth 
and  try  to  get  your  shoes  off. 

And  this  goes  double  for  the 
man  who  weighs  more  than  225 
pounds. 

Every  time  I  reached  for  my 
feet  to  get  my  shoes  off  I  bumped 
my  head  off,  and  the  more  I 
bumped  my  head  off  the  less  I 
got  my  shoes  off,  and  the  less  I 
got  my  shoes  off  the  more  I 
seemed  to  bump  my  head  off,  so 


JOHN  HENRY  ON   UPPER   BERTHS    21 

I  decided  that  in  order  to  keep 
my  head  on  I  had  better  keep  my 
shoes  on  also. 

Then  I  tried  to  divorce  my  sus- 
penders from  my  shoulders,  but 
just  as  I  got  the  suspenders  half 
way  over  my  head  I  struck  my 
crazy  bone  on  the  rafters,  and 
there  I  was,  suspendered  between 
Heaven  and  earth,  but  praying 
with  all  my  heart  for  a  bottle  qf 
arnica. 

Then  I  decided  to  sleep  as  na- 
ture made  me,  with  all  my  clothes 
on,  including  my  rubbers. 

So  I  stretched  out,  but  just 
then  the  train  struck  a  curve  and 
I  went  up  in  the  air  till  the  ceiling 
hit  me,  and  then  I  bounced  over 
to  the  edge  of  the  precipice  and 


22  SKIDDOO 

hung  there,  trembling  on  the 
verge. 

Below  me  all  was  dark  and 
gloomy,  and  only  by  the  hoarse 
groans  of  the  snorers  could  I  tell 
that  the  Pullman  Company  was 
still  making  money. 

Luck  was  with  me,  however, 
for  just  then  the  train  struck  an 
in-shoot  curve  which  pushed  me 
to  the  wall,  and  I  bumped  my 
head  so  completely  that  I  fell 
asleep. 

When  I  woke  up  a  small  pack- 
age of  daylight  was  peeping  into 
the  car,  so  I  decided  to  descend 
from  my  cupboard  shelf  at  once. 

I  peeped  out  through  the  alu- 
minum curtains,  but  there  was 
no  sign  of  the  colored  porter  and 


I  made  a  short  prayer  and 
concluded  to  fall  out.— Pacre  23. 


JOHN   HENRY   ON   UPPER  BERTHS     23 

the  step-ladder  was  invisible  to 
the  naked  eye. 

The  car  was  peaceful  now  with 
the  exception  of  a  gent  in  lower 
No.  4,  who  had  a  strangle  hold  on 
a  Beethoven  sonata  and  was  beat- 
ing the  cadenza  out  of  it. 

I  made  a  short  prayer  and  con- 
cluded to  fall  out,  but  just  then 
one  of  my  feet  rested  on  some- 
thing solid,  so  I  put  both  feet  on 
it  and  began  to  step  down. 

Alas,  however,  the  moment  I 
put  my  weight  on  it  my  stepping- 
stone  gave  way  and  I  fell  over- 
board with  a  splash. 

"  How  dare  you  put  your  feet 
on  my  head?"  yelled  the  man  on 
the  ground  floor  of  my  bedroom. 

"  Excuse  me!  it  felt  like  some- 


24  SKIDDOO 

thing  wooden,"  I  whispered, 
while  I  dashed  madly  for  the 
smoker. 

From  that  day  to  this  I  have 
never  been  able  to  look  a  Pull- 
man car  in  the  face,  and  when- 
ever anbody  mentions  an  upper 
berth  to  me  I  lose  my  presence 
of  mind  and  get  peevish. 

If  you  have  ever  been  there 
yourself  I  know  you  don't  blame 
me! 

Do  you? 


CHAPTER    II 

JOHN  HENBY   ON   COOKS 

WHEN  my  wife  made  the 
suggestion    that    we 
should  give  a  Thanks- 
giving dinner  to  our  friends  in 
the  neighborhood  it  almost  put 
me  to  the  ropes. 

You  know  I'm  not  much  on  the 
social  gag,  and  to  have  to  sit  up 
and  make  good-natured  faces  at 
a  lot  of  strangers  gives  me  inter- 
mittent pains  in  the  neck. 

"  Why  should  we  give  them 
a  dinner?"  I  asked  my  wife. 


26  SKIDDOO 

"  Aren't  most  of  them  getting 
good  wages,  and  why  should  we 
kill  the  fatted  calf  for  a  lot  of 
home-made  prodigals  f ' ' 

"  John,  don't  be  so  sel- 
fish!" was  my  wife's  get-back. 
"  There's  a  long  winter  ahead  of 
us,  and  when  we  give  one  din- 
ner to  seven  people  that  means 
seven  people  to  give  us  seven  din- 
ners. Don't  you  see  how  our  lit- 
tle plates  of  soup  will  draw  com- 
pound interest  if  we  invite  the 
right  people?" 

My  wife  is  a  friend  of  mine,  so 
I  refused  to  quarrel  with  her. 

"  All  right,  my  dear,"  I  said, 
"  but  you  must  give  the  dinner 
one  week  before  Thanksgiving." 

"  One  week  before  Thanksgiv- 


Ollie  was  half  Swede  and  the  rest 
of  her  was  deaf. — Page  27. 


JOHN   HENRY   ON   COOKS  27 

ing!"  my  wife  re-echoed,  "  and 
why,  pray?" 

11  Because  this  will  give  our 
guests  a  chance  to  recover  from 
your  cooking  before  the  real  day 
of  prayer  comes  around,  and  by 
that  time  they  will  begin  to  think 
about  you  with  kindness,  per- 
haps. ' ' 

My  wife  stung  me  with  her 
cruel  eyes  and  went  out  in  the 
kitchen  where  the  new  cook  was 
breaking  a  lot  of  our  best  dishes 
which  did  not  appeal  to  her. 

The  name  of  this  new  cook  was 
Ollie  Olsen. 

Ollie  was  half  Swede  and  the 
rest  of  her  was  deaf. 

When  Ollie  came  to  the  house 


28  SKIDDOO 

to  get  a  job  my  wife  asked  her 
for  her  recommendations. 

Ollie  said  that  her  face  was  her 
only  recommendation,  but  that 
she  was  out  late  the  night  before 
and  broke  her  recommendation 
just  above  the  chin. 

Anyway,  my  wife  engaged  her, 
because  what  good  is  a  hearty 
appetite  when  the  kitchen  is 
empty. 

Ollie  said  that  she  was  a  first- 
class  cook,  but  when  we  dared 
her  to  prove  it  she  forgot  my  wife 
was  a  lady  and  threw  the  coal- 
scuttle at  her. 

A  day  or  two  after  Ollie  ar- 
rived I  decided  to  find  out  what 
merit  there  is  in  a  vegetarian  diet. 

"  All  right,"  I  said  to  the  cook, 


JOHN  HENRY  ON  COOKS  29 

after  the  last  plate  of  hash  with 
all  its  fond  memories  had  disap- 
peared, "  this  house  is  going  on 
a  diet  for  a  few  days,  and  hence- 
forth we  are  all  vegetarians,  in- 
cluding the  dog.  Please  govern 
yourself  accordingly." 

Ollie  smiled  Swedefully  and 
whispered  that  vegetarianisms 
was  where  she  lived. 

Ollie  said  she  could  cook  vege- 
tables so  artistically  that  the  pal- 
ate would  believe  them  to  be  filet 
Mignon,  with  Pommery  sauce, 
and  then  she  started  in  to  fool 
the  Beef  Trust  and  put  all  the 
butchers  out  of  business. 

Dinner  time  came  and  we  were 
all  expectancy. 

The  first  course  was  mashed 


30  SKIDDOO 

potatoes,  which  we  just  dabbled 
with  gingerly. 

The  second  course  was  potato 
chips,  which  we  nibbled  slightly 
while  we  looked  eagerly  at  the 
butler's  pantry. 

The  next  course  was  French 
fried  potatoes  with  some  shoe- 
string potatoes  on  the  side,  and  I 
began  to  get  nervous. 

This  was  followed  by  a  dish  of 
German  fried  potatoes,  some 
hash-browned  potatoes  and  some 
potato  saute,  whereupon  my  ap- 
petite got  up  and  left  the  room. 

The  next  course  was  plain 
boiled  potatoes  with  the  jackets 
on,  and  baked  potatoes  with  the 
jaokets  open  at  the  throat,  and 
then  some  roasted  potatoes  with  a 


JOHN  HENRY  ON  COOKS          31 

peek-a-boo  waist  effect,  cut  on  the 
bias. 

I  was  beginning  to  see  the  de- 
lights of  being  a  vegetarian  and 
at  the  same  time  I  could  feel  my- 
self fixing  my  fingers  to  choke 
Ollie. 

The  next  course  was  a  large 
plate  of  potato  salad,  and  then  I 
fainted. 

When  I  got  back  Ollie  was 
standing  near  the  table  with  a 
sweet  smile  on  each  side  of  her 
face  waiting  for  the  applause  of 
those  present. 

"  Have  you  nothing  else?"  I 
inquired,  hungrily. 

"  Oh,  yes!"  said  Ollie.  "I 
have  some  potato  pudding  for 
desert. ' ' 


32  SKIDDOO 

When  I  got  through  swearing 
Ollie  was  under  the  stove,  my 
wife  was  under  the  table,  the  dog 
was  under  the  bed,  and  I  was  un- 
der the  influence  of  liquor. 

No  more  vegetarianism  in  mine. 

Hereafter  I  am  for  that  lamb 
chop  thing,  first,  last  and  always. 

But  let's  get  back  to  that 
Thanksgiving  dinner. 

My  wife  invited  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
William  T.  Hodge,  Joe  Coyne  and 
his  wife,  and  their  daughter, 
Cuticura;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frank 
Doane,  and  their  son,  Communi- 
paw;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jack  Golden, 
and  their  niece,  Casanova;  and 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Eiley  Hatch. 

Charlie  Swayne  was  the  ref- 
eree. 


JOHN   HENRY  ON  COOKS  33 

My  wife  was  so  worried  about 
the  cook  that  before  dinner  time 
arrived  she  had  an  attack  of  ner- 
vous postponement. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  we  were 
both  in  fear  and  trembling  that 
Ollie  would  send  a  tomato  salad 
from  the  kitchen  and  before  it 
reached  the  table  it  would  become 
a  chop  suey. 

Anyway,  the  guests  arrived 
promptly,  and  I  could  see  from 
their  faces  that  they  would  fight 
that  dinner  to  a  finish. 

The  ladies  began  to  chat  pleas- 
antly while  they  sized  up  our  fur- 
niture out  of  the  corners  of  their 
eyes,  and  the  men  glanced  care- 
lessly around  to  see  if  I  had  a 
box  of  cigars  which  would  re- 


34  SKIDDOO 

quire  their  attention  after  dinner. 

Pretty  soon  dinner  was  an- 
nounced and  they  all  jumped  to 
their  feet  as  though  they  had 
stepped  on  a  third  rail. 

I  believe  in  being  thrifty,  but 
the  way  some  of  those  people 
saved  up  their  hunger  for  our 
dinner  was  too  penurious  for 
mine. 

I  took  Mrs.  Hodge  in  and  she 
took  in  my  wife's  dress  to  see  if 
it  was  made  over  from  last  year's. 

Young  Communipaw  Doane 
tried  hard  not  to  reach  the  table 
first,  but  a  plate  of  Dill-pickles 
caught  his  eye  and  he  won  from 
old  man  Hodge  by  an  arm. 

The  first  round  was  oyster 
cocktails  and  everybody  drew 
cards. 


JOHN  HENRY  ON   COOKS  35 

This  was  Ollie's  maiden  at- 
tempt at  making  oyster  cocktails 
and  she  had  original  ideas  about 
them,  which  consisted  of  salad 
oil  instead  of  tomato  ketchup. 

The  salad  oil  came  from  Italy, 
so  the  oysters  were  extremely 
foreign  to  the  taste. 

After  eating  his  cocktail  Riley 
Hatch  began  to  turn  pale  and  in- 
quired politely  if  we  raised  our 
own  oysters. 

But  just  then  little  Cutey  Coyne 
upset  a  glass  of  water  and 
changed  the  subject,  and  the  com- 
plexion of  the  tablecloth. 

The  next  round  was  mock  tur- 
tle soup,  and  it  made  a  deep  im- 
pression, especially  on  Charlie 
Swayne,  because  little  Casanova 


36  SKIDDOO 

Golden  upset  her  share  in  his  lap 
when  he  least  expected  it. 

Charlie  was  very  nice  about  it, 
however. 

He  only  swore  twice,  then  he 
remembered  once  a  gentleman 
always  a  gentleman  and  he  did 
not  strike  the  girl. 

After  a  while  we  all  convinced 
Charlie  that  the  laugh  was  on  the 
soup  and  not  on  him,  and  when 
the  fish  came  on  he  forgot  his 
troubles  by  getting  a  bone  in  his 
throat. 

When  Charlie  began  to  talk 
like  a  trout,  old  man  Hodge 
grabbed  the  bread  knife  and 
begged  to  be  allowed  to  carve 
his  initials  on  somebody's  wish- 
bone. 

But  Joe  Coyne  finally  pacified 


JOHN  HENRY  ON  COOKS          37 

him  by  a  second  helping  of  Ber- 
muda onions. 

I  opened  a  third  bottle  of  Pom- 
mery  just  to  show  I  wasn't 
stingy. 

Then  came  the  Thanksgiving 
turkey,  and  this  is  where  that 
Swede  cook  of  ours  won  the  blue 
ribbon. 

My  wife  had  told  her  to  stuff 
it  with  chestnuts,  but  Ollie 
thought  chestnuts  too  much  of 
an  old  joke,  so  she  stuffed  it  with 
peanut  brittle. 

Ollie  had  noticed  some  other 
things  about  the  kitchen  which 
looked  lonesome,  so  she  decided 
to  put  them  in  the  turkey,  too. 

One  of  these  was  the  cork- 
screw. 

When  I  went  to  carve  the  tur- 


38  SKIDDOO 

key  I  found  a  horseshoe  which 
Ollie  had  put  in  for  luck. 

It  made  my  wife  extremely  ner- 
vous to  see  the  can-opener,  a  pair 
of  scissors,  and  nine  clothes-pins 
come  out  of  that  turkey,  but  Jack 
Golden  said  that  their  last  cook 
tried  to  stuff  their  last  turkey 
with  the  garden  hose,  so  my  wife 
felt  better. 

The  next  round  was  some  salad 
which  Ollie  had  dressed  in  the 
kitchen,  but  the  dress  was  such 
a  bad  fit  that  nobody  could  look 
at  it  without  blushing. 

Then  we  had  some  home-made 
ice  cream  for  desert. 

The  ice  was  very  good,  but 
Ollie  forgot  to  add  the  cream,  so 
it  tasted  rather  insipid. 


JOHN  HENRY  ON  COOKS          39 

Every  time  there  was  a  lull  in 
the  conversation  Charlie  Swayne 
kept  yelling  for  a  Bronx  cocktail, 
and  the  only  thing  that  kept  him 
from  getting  it  was  the  fact  that 
Eiley  Hatch  wanted  to  tell  the 
story  of  his  life. 

Anyway,  the  dinner  came  to  a 
finish  without  anybody  fainting, 
and  the  guests  went  home,  a  little 
hungry  but  unpoisoned. 

The  next  morning  my  wife 
spoke  bitterly  to  Ollie  and  she 
left  us,  followed  by  the  Thanks- 
giving prayers  of  all  those  pres- 
ent. 

The  only  thing  about  the  house 
that  loved  Ollie  was  a  pair  of  ear- 
rings belonging  to  my  wife,  and 
they  went  with  her. 


CHAPTER    in 

JOHN  HENRY  ON  PATRIOTISM 

UNCLE    Peter    spent    the 
Fourth  of  July  at  his 
old  home  in  Ohio. 
I  must  show  you  a  letter  he 
wrote  me  a  few  days  after  that 
noisy  event. 

Dear  John: 

We  had  a  nice  quiet  time 
on  the  Fourth  with  the  exception 
of  my  ankle,  which  was  some- 
what dislocated  because  my  foot 
stepped  on  an  infant  bombshell 


JOHN   HENRY   ON   PATRIOTISM      41 

which  same  exploded  for  my 
benefit. 

I  like  the  idea  of  the  Fourth 
with  the  exception  of  the  noise. 

I  believe  that  if  our  forefathers 
had  suspected  that  their  great- 
grandchildren would  make  such 
an  infernal  racket  on  the  Fourth 
of  July  they  would  have  waited 
for  a  snow  storm  on  the  16th  of 
January  before  signing  their 
John  Hancocks,  because  then  it 
would  be  too  cold  to  explode  fire- 
crackers under  your  neighbor's 
eyebrows  when  he  least  expects 
it. 

We  had  a  nice  quiet  time  at 
home  on  the  Fourth,  John,  with 
the  exception  that  little  Oscar 
Maddy,  who  lives  next  door,  pre- 
sented me  with  a  Eoman  candle 
which  joined  me  between  the 
third  button  on  my  waistcoat  and 
the  solar  plexus. 


42  SKIDDOO 

I  acknowledged  the  receipt  by 
falling  off  the  front  step  and 
barking  my  shoulder. 

You  should  always  remember, 
John,  that  the  Fourth  is  the  day 
when  your  patriotic  voice  should 
climb  out  of  your  thorax  and 
make  the  welkin  ring,  but  it  isn  't 
really  necessary  to  get  up  a  row 
between  a  stick  of  dynamite  and 
a  keg  of  giant  powder  to  prove 
that  you  love  the  cause  of  liberty. 

You  will  find  that  some  of  our 
best  citizens— men  who  love  lib- 
erty with  an  everlasting  love— 
are  hiding  in  the  cellar  with  both 
hands  over  their  ears  from  July 
3d  to  July  5th. 

We  had  a  nice  quiet  time  at 
home  on  the  Fourth,  John,  with 
the  exception  that  your  sec- 
ond cousin,  Randolph,  tried  to 
explode  a  toy  cannon  and  re- 
moved the  apex  of  his  thumb  and 


JOHN   HENRY   ON   PATRIOTISM     43 

about  half  of  the  dining-room 
window. 

It  may  be  necessary  to  cele- 
brate the  birth  of  freedom  by 
bursting  forth  into  noise,  but  my 
idea,  John,  is  that  Old  Glory 
would  like  it  much  better  if  we 
were  more  subdued  and  kept  our 
children  on  the  earth  instead  of 
letting  them  go  up  in  the  air  in 
small  fragments. 

We  had  a  very  quiet  time  at 
home,  John,  on  the  Fourth  with 
the  exception  of  your  distant 
relative,  Uncle  Joseph  Carberry. 
Uncle  Joe  annexed  about  six  mint 
juleps  and  then  went  to  sleep  on 
the  front  porch  with  five  packs 
of  firecrackers  in  his  coat  pocket. 

Full  of  the  spirt  of  liberty,  your 
interesting  cousin,  Randolph,  set 
fire  to  your  Uncle's  pocket,  and 
when  last  seen  your  Uncle  Joe 
was  rushing  over  hill  and  dale  in 


44  8KIDDOO 

the  general  direction  of  Hartford, 
Connecticut,  with  the  firecrackers 
cheering  him  on. 

Liberty,  John,  is  the  only  real 
thing  in  this  world  for  a  nation, 
but  just  why  the  glorious  cause 
of  freedom  should  be  slapped  in 
the  face  with  an  imitation  of  the 
bombardment  of  Port  Arthur  is 
something  which  I  must  have 
misconstrued. 

We  had  a  very  quiet  time  here 
at  home  on  the  Fourth,  John, 
with  the  exception  that  another 
interesting  cousin  of  yours,  my 
young  namesake,  Peter  Grant, 
tied  a  giant  firecracker  to  the 
cat's  tail,  and  the  cat  went  to  the 
kitchen  to  have  her  explosion. 

It  took  two  hours  and  seven 
neighbors  to  get  your  good  old 
Aunt  Maggie  out  of  the  refriger- 
ator, which  was  the  place  selected 
for  her  by  the  catastrophe. 


With  the  firecrackers  cheering 
him  on. — Page  45. 


JOHN   HENRY  ON  PATRIOTISM     45 

The  stove  lost  all  the  supper 
it  contained;  little  Peter  Grant 
lost  two  eyebrows  and  his  Buster 
Brown  hair;  the  cat  lost  seven  of 
its  lives,  and  the  glorious  cause 
of  Freedom  got  a  send-off  that 
could  be  heard  nineteen  miles. 

We  all  missed  you,  John,  but 
maybe  it  is  better  you  were  not 
at  home  on  the  Fourth,  because 
the  doctor  is  occupying  your 
room  so  that  he  could  be  near 
the  wounded— otherwise,  we  are 
all  well. 

I  think,  John,  that  when  Free- 
dom was  first  invented  by  George 
Washington  the  idea  was  to  make 
it  something  quiet  and  modest 
which  he  could  keep  about  the 
house  and  which  he  could  look 
at  once  in  a  while  without  get- 
ting nervous  prostration. 

But  George  forgot  to  leave  full 
instructions,  and  nowadays  when 


46  SKIDDOO 

the  Birthday  of  Freedom  rolls 
around  the  impulsive  American 
public  wakes  up  at  daylight, 
shoves  up  the  window  and  begins 
to  hurl  torpedoes  at  the  house 
next  door,  because  a  noise  in  the 
air  is  worth  two  noises  on  the 
quiet. 

We  had  a  very  quiet  Fourth 
at  home,  John,  with  the  exception 
of  your  second  cousin,  Hector, 
who  patriotically  attached  him- 
self to  a  hot-air  balloon,  and  when 
last  seen  was  hovering  over  Erie, 
Pa.,  and  making  signs  to  his  par- 
ents not  to  wait  supper  for  him. 

Most  of  our  neighbors  for  miles 
in  every  direction  have  sons 
and  daughters  missing,  but  what 
could  they  expect  when  a  child 
will  try  to  put  a  pound  of  powder 
in  four  inches  of  gas  pipe  and 
then  light  the  result  with  a 
match. 


JOHN  HENRY  ON   PATRIOTISM     47 

The  Fourth  is  a  great  idea,  but 
I  think  this  is  carrying  it  too  far, 
as  the  little  boy  said  when  he 
went  over  the  top  of  the  house 
on  the  handle  of  a  sky-rocket. 

We  had  a  very  quiet  time  at 
home  on  the  Fourth,  John,  with 
the  exception  of  our  parlor  which 
took  fire  when  your  enthusiastic 
cousin,  Randolph,  tried  to  make 
some  Japanese  lanterns  by  set- 
ting fire  to  the  lace  curtains. 

The  firemen  put  out  the  fire 
and  most  of  our  furniture. 

Your  cousin  was  also  much  put 
out  when  I  spanked  him. 

We  hope  to  recover  from  the 
excitement  before  the  next 
Fourth,  but  your  Aunt  hopes  that 
somebody  will  soon  invent  a  new 
style  of  noise,  which  will  not  be 
so  full  of  concussion. 

Yours  with  love, 
UNCLE  PETER. 


CHAPTER    IV 

JOHN  HENRY   ON   MOSQUITOES 

WHEN    Peaches    and    I 
were      married      we 
were  sentenced  to  live 
in  one  of  those  8x9  Harlem  peo- 
ple-coops, where  they  have  run- 
ning gas  on  every  floor  and  hot 
and  cold  landlords  and  self-fold- 
ing doors,  and  janitors  with  fold- 
ing arms,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing. 
Immense! 

When  we  moved  into  the  half- 
portion     dwelling     house     last 


JOHN  HENRY  ON  MOSQUITOES     49 

spring  I  said  to  the  janitor, 
"  Have  you  any  mosquitoes  in 
the  summer?" 

The  janitor  was  so  insulted  he 
didn't  feel  like  taking  a  drink 
for  ten  minutes. 

11  Mosquitoes!"  he  shouted; 
"  such  birds  of  prey  were  never 
known  in  these  apartments.  We 
have  piano  beaters  and  gas  me- 
ters, but  never  such  criminals  as 
mosquitoes." 

With  these  kind  words  I  was 
satisfied. 

For  weeks  I  bragged  about  my 
Harlem  flat  for  which  no  mos- 
quito could  carry  a  latch-key. 

The  janitor  said  so,  and  his 
word  was  law. 

I  looked  forward  to  a  summer 


50  SKIDDOO 

without  pennyroyal  on  the  man- 
telpiece or  witch  hazel  on  the  shin 
bone,  and  was  content. 

But  one  night  in  the  early  sum- 
mer I  got  all  that  was  coming  to 
me  and  I  got  it  good. 

In  the  middle  of  the  night  I 
thought  I  heard  voices  in  the 
room  and  I  sat  up  in  bed. 

"  I  wonder  if  it's  second-story 
men,"  I  whispered  to  myself,  be- 
cause my  wife  was  away  at  the 
seashore. 

She  had  gone  off  to  the  shim- 
mering sands  and  left  me  chained 
to  the  post  of  duty,  and  I  tell  you, 
boys,  it's  an  awful  thing  when 
your  wife  quits  you  that  way  and 
you  have  to  drag  the  post  of  duty 


JOHN  HENRY  ON  MOSQUITOES    51 

all  over  town  in  order  to  find  a 
cool  place. 

Wives  may  rush  away  to  the 
summer  resorts  where  all  is  gay- 
ety,  and  where  every  guess  they 
make  at  the  bill  of  fare  means  a 
set-back  in  the  bank  account ;  but 
the  husbands  must  labor  on 
through  the  scorching  days  and 
in  the  evenings  climb  the  weary 
steps  to  the  roof  gardens. 

"  Ping-ding-a-zing-a-boom!" 
exclaimed  the  voices  on  the  other 
side  of  the  bed. 

"  If  they  are  after  my  dia- 
monds," I  moaned,  "  they  will 
lose  money,"  and  then  I  reached 
under  the  pillow  for  the  revolver 
I  never  owned. 

"  Ping-ding-a-zing-a-boomf" 


52  SKIDDOO 

went  the  conversation  on  the 
other  side  of  the  bed. 

"  There  is  something  doing 
here,"  I  remarked  to  myself, 
while  I  wished  for  daylight  with 
both  hands. 

"  Ping- ding- a- zing- a -boom!" 
went  the  conversation  on  the 
other  side  of  the  bed. 

"  Who  is  it?"  I  whispered, 
waiting  for  a  reply,  but  hoping 
no  one  would  answer  me. 

"  Ping-ding-a-zing-a-booml" 
said  the  same  mysterious  voices. 

Then  suddenly  it  struck  me— 
the  janitor  was  a  liar. 

Those  voices  in  the  night  ema- 
nated from  a  convention  of  mos- 
quitoes. 

IH  that  nerve-destroying  mo- 


JOHN   HENRY   ON   MOSQUITOES    53 

ment  I  recollected  my  parting  ad- 
monition to  my  wife  when  she 
went  away,  "  Darling,  remember, 
money  is  not  everything  in  this 
world  and  don't  write  home  to  me 
for  any  more.  And  remember, 
also,  that  when  the  Jersey  mos- 
quito makes  you  forget  the  po- 
liteness due  to  your  host,  flash 
your  return  ticket  in  his  face  and 
rush  hither  to  your  happy  little 
home  in  Harlem,  where  the  mos- 
quito never  warbles  and  stingeth 
not  like  a  serpent,  are  you  hep?" 

And  now  it  was  all  off. 

Never  more  could  we  go  away 
to  the  seashore  for  two  expensive 
weeks  and  realize  that  we  would 
be  more  comfortable  at  home, 


54  SKIDDOO 

like  millions  of  other  people  do 
every  year. 

"  Ping- ding- a- zing- a -boom!" 
shrieked  those  relentless  voices  in 
the  darkness. 

11  Do  you  want  my  money  or 
my  life?"  I  inquired,  tremblingly. 

"  We  desire  to  bite  our  auto- 
graph on  your  wish-bone,"  one 
voice  replied  pleasantly. 

"Great  Scott!"  I  shouted, 
"  why  do  you  wish  to  bite  one 
who  is  a  stranger  to  you?" 

"  You  have  a  wife  who  is 
spending  a  few  weeks  and  a  few 
dollars  at  the  Jersey  seashore,  is 
it  not  so?"  inquired  the  hoarsest 
voice. 

"  Heaven  help  me,  I  have,"  I 
answered,  manfully. 


"  Ping-ding-a-zing-a- 
boom  !  " — Page  54. 


"  She  is  at  Cheesehurst-by-the- 
Sea?"  that  awful  voice  went  on. 

"  She  is,  "I  admitted  it. 

"  Well,  yesterday  evening  she 
slapped  her  forehead  suddenly 
and  killed  the  bread-winner  of 
this  family,"  the  voice  shrieked, 
"  and  we  are  here  for  revenge!" 

"  What  are  your  names, 
please?"  I  whispered. 

"  My  name  is  Clementina 
Stinger,  and  with  me  is  my  son, 
little  Willie  Stinger,  formerly  of 
Cheesehurst  -  by  -  the  -  Sea, ' '  the 
voice  answered. 

I  sat  there  listening  while  my 
knees  shook  for  the  drinks. 

"  We  looked  up  your  wife's 
home  address  and  came  hither  to 
board  with  you,  because  she  up- 


56  SKIDDOO 

set  our  bread-winner's  apple 
cart,"  the  voice  went  on,  threat- 
eningly. 

"  Willie,  my  son,  get  a  light 
luncheon  from  the  gentleman's 
medulla  oblongata,  and  I  will 
eat  a  small  steak  from  his 
solar  plexus— ping-ding-a-zing-a- 
boom!" 

"  Have  you  no  pity?"  I  said, 
pleadingly. 

"  Pity!"  said  Clementina— 
"  pity!  you  ask  for  pity  when  my 
forefathers  were  the  first  to  land 
on  the  only  Plymouth  Rock  in 
the  meadows  of  Hackensack!  I 
wish  you  to  know  that  the  proud 
blood  of  many  victims  rushes 
through  the  veins  of  the  Stinger 
Family.  We  do  not  belong  to 


JOHN   HENRY   ON   MOSQUITOES     57 

the  pity  push.  Willie,  if  the  gen- 
tleman kicks  bore  a  tunnel 
through  his  cerebellum,  near  the 
medusa,  and  I  will  jump  in  his 
alimentary  canal  and  take  a  swim 
— ping-ding-a-zing-a-boom ! ' ' 

Then,  just  as  these  two  feroci- 
ous members  of  the  Stinger  Fam- 
ily rushed  at  me,  I  awoke  with 
a  cry  for  help. 

There  was  not  a  mosquito  in 
the  room. 

Thank  Heaven,  it  was  only  a 
dream ! 

At  the  door,  however,  was  a 
messenger  with  a  special  delivery 
letter  from  my  wife. 

The  letter  read,  "  Dear  John, 
I  only  want  to  say  that  Cheese- 
hurst-by-the-Sea  would  be  a  nice 


58  SKIDDOO 

place  if  a  person  could  wear  ar- 
mor plate  to  avoid  the  mosqui- 
toes. I  have  rubbed  my  com- 
plexion with  peppermint,  and  I 
have  worn  smoke-sticks  in  my 
hair  till  I  burned  my  pompadour, 
but  the  mosquitoes  still  look 
upon  me  as  their  meal  ticket.  I 
expect  to  insult  everybody  pres- 
ent and  leave  for  home  to-mor- 
row. Lovingly,  thy  wife." 

My  dream  was  out. 

I  don't  want  to  change  the  sub- 
ject too  abruptly,  but  you  remem- 
ber Uncle  William,  don't  you?" 

Well,  once  upon  a  time,  Uncle 
Bill  was  clear  daffy  on  the  sub- 
ject of  mosquitoes. 

He  invented  more  kerosene 
tablets  to  poison  'em  and  set 


JOHN   HENRY   ON  MOSQUITOES    59 

more  traps  to  catch  'em  than  any 
pest-remover  in  the  business. 

I  must  tell  you  about  the 
time  he  was  one  of  a  committee 
of  three  appointed  by  Budweiser 
College  or  Anheuser  University, 
or  some  such  concern,  to  study 
the  mosquito  at  close  range  in  its 
native  jungles. 

The  committee  consisted  of 
Professor  Kenneth  Glueface,  Pro- 
fessor Oscar  Soupnoodle,  a  Ger- 
man gentleman  with  thistles  in 
his  conversation,  and  my  Uncle, 
Mr.  William  Gray. 

The  committee  decided  that  the 
best  way  to  study  the  New  Jersey 
mosquito  would  be  to  live  in  their 
gloomy  haunts  and  forsake  civil- 
ization for  the  time  being. 


60  SKIDDOO 

In  accordance  with  this  idea 
they  had  the  Carnegie  Steel 
Company  build  for  them  a  steel 
cage,  which  was  placed  in  the 
depths  of  the  Hackensack  jun- 
gles, and  thither  they  went. 

Dr.  Soupnoodle  was  of  the 
opinion  that  a  Jersey  mosquito 
has  a  language,  and  the  other  two 
members  of  the  committee  agreed 
to  help  him  to  settle  this  point. 

"  My  idea  is,"  said  Dr.  Soup- 
noodle,  "  dot  der  beasts  haf  a 
speech  vich  dey  use,  uddervise 
how  can  dey  find  our  fairst  fami- 
lies in  der  blue  book  und  go  after 
deir  blue  blood  I" 

"  Do  you  hold,  Doctor,  that  the 
mosquito  speaks  with  a  guttural 


JOHN  HENRY   ON   MOSQUITOES    61 

inflection  on  the  vowels?"  in- 
quired Uncle  William. 

"  More  likely  with  a  strin- 
gency on  the  last  syllable  of  the 
diphthong,"  suggested  Dr.  Glue- 
face. 

"  Ve  vill  sprinkle  near  der 
cage  a  little  Wienerwurst  und  a 
cubble  of  smoked  hams,"  ex- 
plained the  Dutch  doctor.  "  Ve 
vill  den  retire  behind  der  bars 
of  der  steel  cage,  und  mit  our 
repitition  rifles  on  our  knees 
avait  der  cameing  of  der  enemies 
of  cif ilization. " 

This  plan  was  carried  into 
effect. 

The  minutes  passed  by  and 
they  sat  there,  three  determined 
men,  trying  to  drag  from  reluc- 


62  SKIDDOO 

taut  New  Jersey  the  terrible  se- 
crets of  its  most  popular  indus- 
try. 

"  We  must  not  talk,"  whis- 
pered Professor  Glueface,  "  be- 
cause if  the  mosquito  suspects 
the  presence  of  a  human  being  he 
will  not  talk." 

11  No,"  replied  Uncle  William, 
pale  but  oalm;  "  the  battle  cry 
of  the  mosquito  is  deeds,  not 
words!" 

Deep  silence  fell  over  the  Jer- 
sey jungle,  broken  only  by  the 
far-away  shrieks  of  a  locomotive 
as  it  snorted  with  fear  and  hur- 
ried out  of  the  State. 

"  Kluck -gurgle -kluck- gurgle- 
gurgle!" 

The  committee  grasped  their 


JOHN  HENRY   ON   MOSQUITOES     63 

repeating  rifles  and  peered  into 
the  darkness. 

"  Vim  of  dem  is  cameing!" 
whispered  Professor  Soupnoodle; 
"  remember  Metz  und  strike  for 
der  Fatherland!" 

"  Kluck- gurgle- kluck- gurgle- 
gurgle!" 

Gee  whiz!  the  horror  of  that 
bitter  moment. 

Uncle  William  removed  a  short 
prayer  from  his  mind,  and  the 
Dutch  Professor  started  to  sing 
"  Die  Wacht  am  Rhine." 

But  just  then  Professor  Glue- 
face  smacked  his  lips  and  put 
the  bottle  down. 

"  Fine!"  he  said;  "  I  feel  bet- 
ter now. ' ' 

Then  the  rest  of  the  committee 


64  SKIDDOO 

knew  that  it  was  a  false  alarm 
originating  in  the  thirst  of  the 
Professor. 

But  just  then  the  gloom  in 
front  of  them  began  to  take  form 
and  shape,  and  they  knew  this 
was  no  false  alarm. 

"  Zwei!"  whispered  Professor 
Soupnoodle. 

"  Great  Scott!"  exclaimed  Dr. 
Glueface,  "  my  idea  is  right— the 
Jersey  mosquito  has  a  language! 
I  can  catch  a  word  now  and  then. 
It  is  something  like  Sanscrit,  only 
slangier!" 

They  listened  and  watched. 

Approaching  them  through  the 
gloom  could  be  seen  two  beauti- 
ful specimens  of  the  Kings  of  the 
Jersey  jungles. 


JOHN   HENRY  ON  MOSQUITOES    65 

"  It  is  a  male  und  a  female," 
whispered  the  Dutch  Professor. 
"  I  can  tell  it  because  he  vears 
someding  like  a  Pa  jama  hat,  und 
she  holds  vun  ving  up  like  a 
skirt." 

The  committee  clutched  their 
repeating  rifles  closer  and  pre- 
pared for  the  worst. 

' '  They  are  engaged  to  be  mar- 
ried," Professor  Glueface  whis- 
pered; "  he  has  just  told  her  that 
he  knows  where  to  get  good 
board  and  lodging  in  a  Harlem 
flat.  She  calls  him  Percy.  Her 
name  is  Evaline.  Hss-s-s-sh!" 

The  warning  was  too  late. 

The  Scourges  of  the  Swamp 
had  discovered  the  cage  and  drew 
nearer. 

11  He  laughs  at  us,"  whispered 


66  SKIDDOO 

Professor  Glueface;  "  now  he  is 
telling  her  that  the  cage  is  only 
made  of  steel  and  it  is  a  cinch. 
He  has  gone  to  get  his  drill.  What 
is  to  be  done  ? ' ' 

"  In  the  interests  of  science," 
Uncle  William  whispered,  "  let 
us  sneak  out  and  run  for  the  po- 
lice with  all  our  hearts. ' ' 

And  this  they  did  while  Percy 
was  getting  his  drill  ready. 

Time,  for  the  first  100  yards, 
nine  seconds  flat;  for  the  rest  of 
the  distance  about  ten  seconds  on 
the  average. 

The  committee  has  not  yet  re- 
ported whether  or  not  there  is 
malaria  in  a  mosquito's  bite,  be- 
cause they  didn't  wait  to  let  him 
bite  them. 

Stung! 


CHAPTER   V 

JOHN  HENRY  ON  STREET  CAR 
ETIQUETTE 


44   yv 


"  Naw,  we  don't 
take  no  transfers, 
needer!  Aw,  chase  yerself!" 

"  Ding,  ding!" 

For  my  part  I  haven't  been 
able  to  figure  it  out,  but  Uncle 
Peter  is  the  lad  who  has  made  a 
profound  study  of  that  street  car 
proposition  known  as  the  End- 
Seat  Hog. 


I'm  going  to  pass  you  out  a 
talk  he  handed  me  a  few  evenings 
ago  on  that  subject. 

Pipe! 


68  SKIDDOO 

Suffering  crumpets,  John!  I 
don't  know  anything  about  this 
end  seat  business,  and  the  more 
I  try  to  find  out  the  more  complex 
becomes  the  problem. 

I've  been  up  and  down  and 
over  and  across  in  the  surface 
cars,  John,  and  my  experience  is 
ornamented  by  ripped  trousers 
and  discolored  shins,  but  my  in- 
tellect blows  out  a  fuse  every 
time  I  try  to  dope  out  the  real 
way  not  to  be  an  End-Seat  Hog. 

Last  Monday  I  jumped  on  an 
open-face  car  and  it  seemed  that 
all  the  world  was  filled  with  joy 
and  good  wishes. 

I  was  smoking  one  of  those 
Bad  Boy  cigars.  I  call  it  a  Bad 
Boy  cigar  because  as  soon  as  it 
goes  out  it  gets  awful  noisy. 


"  Naw,  we  don't  take  no  transfers, 
needer !  " — Page  69. 


JOHN   HENRY  ON  ETIQUETTE      69 

It  was  away  uptown  and  the 
car  was  empty  with  the  excep- 
tion o*  a  couple  of  benches.  . 

Two  blocks  further  on  the  car 
stopped  and  a  stout  lady  looked 
over  the  situation. 

I  think  she  must  have  been 
color  blind,  because  she  didn't 
see  the  empty  seats  ahead  and  de- 
cided to  cast  her  lot  with  me. 

It  was  a  terrific  moment. 

"  Peter,"  I  said  to  myself, 
11  don't  be  a  Hog— move  over!" 

And  virtue  was  triumphant. 

I  moved  over,  and  the  stout 
lady  settled  squashfully  into  the 
end  seat. 

Her  displacement  was  about 
fifteen  cents'  worth  of  bench. 

After  we  had  gone  about-  ten 
blocks  more  every  seat  in  the  car 


70  SKIDDOO 

in  front  and  behind  us  was 
crowded,  but  nobody  could  get 
in  our  section  because  the  fat  lady 
held  them  at  bay  like  Horatius 
held  the  bridge  in  the  brave  days 
of  old. 

People  would  rush  up  to  the 
car  when  it  stopped,  glance  care- 
lessly fore  and  aft  until  their 
eyes  rested  on  the  vacant  seats 
in  our  direction,  and  then  they 
would  see  the  stout  lady  sitting 
there,  as  graceful  as  the  sunken 
ships  which  used  to  block  the 
harbor  at  Port  Arthur. 

The  people  would  look  at  the 
stout  lady  with  no  hope  in  their 
eyes,  and  then,  with  a  sigh,  they 
would  retire  and  wait  for  the 
next  car. 

No  one  was  brave  enough  to 


JOHN   HENRY   ON  ETIQUETTE      71 

climb  the  mountain  which  grew 
up  between  them  and  the  prom- 
ised land. 

After  a  while  I  began  to  get 
a  toothache  in  my  conscience. 

"  Peter,"  I  said  to  myself  in 
a  hoarse  whisper, ' '  perhaps  after 
all  you  were  the  Hog  because  you 
moved  over!  After  the  lady  had 
climbed  over  you  she  would  have 
kept  on  to  the  other  end  of  the 
bench  where  now  there  is  noth- 
ing but  a  sullen  space. ' ' 

I  began  to  insult  myself. 

"  Peter,"  I  exclaimed  in- 
wardly, "  what  do  you  know 
about  the  etiquette  of  the  street 
car?  According  to  the  news- 
papers it  is  only  a  Man  who  can 
be  a  Hog  on  the  street  cars,  and 
since  you  are  the  original  cause 


72  SKIDDOO 

of  blockading  the  port  when  you 
moved  over,  you  must  be  the 
Hog!" 

Then  I  got  so  mad  at  myself 
that  I  refused  to  talk  to  myself 
any  further. 

The  next  day  I  was  riding 
downtown  on  the  end  seat  with 
my  mind  made  up  to  stay  there 
and  keep  the  harbor  open  for 
commerce. 

"  Never,"  I  said  to  myself, 
"  never  will  anyone  become  a  hu- 
man Merrimac  to  bottle  up  the 
seating  capacity  of  this  particu- 
lar bench  while  the  blood  flows 
through  these  veins  and  the  flag 
of  freedom  waves  above  me." 

At  the  next  corner  a  very  thin 
little  gentleman  squeezed  by  me 
with  a  look  of  reproach  on  his 


JOHN   HENRY   ON   ETIQUETTE      73 

face  the  like  of  which  I  hope 
never  to  see  again,  but  I  was 
Charles  J.  G-lue  and  firm  in  the 
end  seat. 

Then  a  couple  of  Italy 's  sunny 
sons  by  the  names  of  Microbeini 
and  Germicide  crawled  over  me 
and  kicked  their  initials  on  my 
knee-cap  and  then  sat  down  to 
enjoy  a  smoke  of  domestic  rope 
which  fell  across  my  nostrils  and 
remained  there  in  bitterness. 

After  I  had  been  stepped  on, 
sat  on,  clawed  at  and  scowled  at 
for  twenty  minutes,  I  began  to 
discuss  myself  to  myself. 

11  Peter,"  I  whispered,  "  do 
you  really  think  that  the  gen- 
eral public  appreciates  your  ef- 
forts to  keep  the  Harbor  open  I '  ' 

And  then  myself  replied  to  my- 


74  SKIDDOO 

self  with,  a  sigh  of  exhaustion, 
"  I  don't  think!" 

"  Peter,"  I  said  to  myself, 
"  no  matter  what  your  motives 
may  be  the  other  fellow  will  al- 
ways believe  you  are  trying  to 
get  the  best  of  it.  If  you  move 
over  and  give  the  end  seat  to 
another  gentleman  he  will  con- 
sider it  only  what  is  his  right. 
If  you  don't  move  over  he  will 
think  you  are  a  Hog  for  keeping 
that  which  is  as  much  yours  as 
his." 

I  began  to  grow  confidential 
with  myself. 

' '  Civilization  is  a  fine  idea,  but 
Human  Nature  can  give  it  cards 
and  spades  and  then  beat  it  out ! ' ' 
I  told  myself.  ' '  The  Human  Hog 
was  invented  long  before  the 


JOHN   HENRY   ON  ETIQUETTE      75 

open-face  street  car  began  to 
stop  for  him,  and  there  isn't  any- 
body living  who  should  stop  to 
throw  stones  at  him,  because  sel- 
fishness is  like  the  measles,  it 
breaks  out  in  unexpected  places. 
All  of  us  may  not  be  Hogs,  but 
there  is  a  moment  in  the  life  of 
every  man  when  he  gets  near 
enough  to  it  to  be  called  a  Ham 
Sandwich.  * ' 

Just  then  the  Disinfecti 
Brothers,  Microbeini  and  Ger- 
micide, walked  over  me  back- 
ward and  I  had  a  short  but  ex- 
citing visit  to  the  slums. 

Since  that  eventful  day  I  have 
moved  over  36  times,  and  out  of 
the  36  people  I  gave  the  end  seat 
to  all  but  three  of  them  belonged 


76  SKIDDOO 

to  the  Mucilage  Family,  and 
stayed  there. 

Thereafter  I  made  myself  a 
severe  promise  not  to  worry  any 
more  about  my  Hog  qualifica- 
tions when  movable  or  immov- 
able on  an  open-face  car. 

I  will  do  as  my  conscience  dic- 
tates and  walk  downtown  as 
much  as  possible. 

And  speaking  of  street  cars, 
John,  Uncle  Peter  resumed 
after  a  long  pause,  I  was  in  one 
of  those  cities  recently  where 
some  of  the  cars  stop  on  the  near 
side  of  some  of  the  streets  and 
some  stop  on  the  far  side  of  some 
of  the  streets. 

Honestly,  John,  they  had  me 
up  in  the  air. 

I  left  the  hotel  to  attend  to 


JOHN  HEKRY  ON  ETIQUETTE     77 

some  business  downtown  and 
went  over  on  the  near  side  of  the 
street  to  wait  for  a  car. 

When  the  car  came  along  I  held 
my  thumb  out  in  the  atmosphere 
warningly,  but  the  motorman 
kept  on  to  the  far  side  and 
stopped. 

By  the  time  I  ran  over  to  the 
far  side  he  was  gone  again  and 
another  car  had  stopped  at  the 
near  side. 

When  I  rushed  back  to  the  near 
side  the  car  passed  me  going  to 
the  far  side,  and  now  the  near 
side  looked  so  much  like  the  far 
side  that  I  went  back  to  the  other 
side,  which  should  have  been  the 
near  side,  but  how  could  it  be 
the  near  side  when  the  car  was 
on  the  far  side  and  I  could  not 
get  near  the  near  side  in  time  to 


78  SKIDDOO 

catch  the  car  before  it  was  far 
away  on  the  far  side? 

Just  as  I  rushed  back  again  to 
the  far  side  the  near  side  became 
the  nearer  side  to  catch  the  car, 
and  when  I  rushed  over  again 
from  the  far  side  to  the  near  side 
the  nearer  I  got  to  the  near  side 
the  clearer  I  could  see  that  while 
the  far  side  was  far  away  it  was 
nearer  than  the  near  side,  which 
was  always  on  the  far  side  when 
I  hoped  to  take  a  car  on  the  near 
side. 

Then  I  began  to  grit  my  teeth 
and  made  up  my  mind  to  antici- 
pate the  action  of  the  next  car 
by  standing  half  way  between  the 
near  side  and  the  far  side,  so  that 
I  could  run  to  either  side  the 
emergency  called  for. 


JOHN  HENRY  ON   ETIQUETTE      79 

I  was  standing  there  about  a 
minute  much  pleased  with  the 
idea,  because  the  near  side  was 
now  about  as  far  away  as  the  far 
side,  when  just  then  an  automo- 
bile sneaked  up  behind  me  and 
one  of  the  forward  turrets  struck 
me  on  my  own  personal  far  side 
and  hoisted  me  over  to  the  near 
side  just  as  a  car  left  for  the  far 
side. 

I  reached  out  my  hand  to  grasp 
the  far  side  of  the  step,  but  I 
missed  it  and  caught  the  near 
side,  and  by  this  time  the  car  was 
on  the  far  side  and  the  motorman 
grabbed  the  near  side  of  the  elec- 
tric controller  and  pushed  it  over 
to  the  far  side,  whereupon  the  car 
started  for  El  Paso,  Texas,  at  a 
speed  of  about  3,000  miles  a  min- 


80  SKIDDOO 

lite,  and  there  I  was  with  the  near 
side  of  four  fingers  holding  on  to 
the  far  side  of  the  step  and  the 
rest  of  my  body  sticking  straight 
out  in  space  like  a  pair  of  trousers 
on  a  clothes-line  in  a  gale  of  wind. 

Then  suddenly  the  near  side  of 
my  fingers  refused  to  hold  on  to 
the  far  side  of  the  step,  and  with 
the  near  side  of  my  face  I  struck 
the  far  side  of  the  tracks,  and  the 
near  side  of  my  brain  saw  every 
individual  star  on  the  far  side  of 
the  universe. 

Then  I  went  back  to  the  hotel 
and  crawled  into  the  far  side  of 
the  bed  while  my  wife  sent  for  a 
near  side  doctor  who  lived  on  the 
far  side  of  the  block. 


That  will  be  about  all  for  Uncle 
Peter. 


CHAPTER    VI 

JOHN  HENRY   ON   SOCIAL  AFFAIRS 

LAST     year     Bunch,     and 
Alice      spent       several 
weeks  doing  the  society 
stunt  at  the  fashionable  seaside 
resorts. 

I  must  put  you  next  to  a  letter 
Bunch  wrote  me  from  Newport : 

Dear  John : 

With  a  party  of  our  society 
friends  we  have  been  Newporting 
all  this  week. 

Next  week  I  hope  to  Bar  Har- 
bor for  a  few  days,  and  the  week 
after  that  I  hope  to  Narragansett 
for  a  short  period. 


82  SKIDDOO 

In  the  party  with  us  here  are 
Clarence  Fussyface,  Llewellyn 
Shortbrow,  Harry  Pifflemind,  Ce- 
cil Vanwigglevandoozen,  Mrs. 
George  Plentycash  and  Miss 
Clorinda  Fritters. 

Mrs.  Plentycash  is  accompa- 
nied by  a  friend  of  her  husband 's 
by  the  name  of  Murgatroyd 
Mutt;  and  Mr.  Harry  Pifflemind 
has  his  own  private  bartender,  so 
there  is  nothing  to  mar  the 
beauty  of  the  visit. 

During  our  first  day  at  New- 
port we  played  bridge  until  two 
o'clock,  then  we  jumped  in  our 
automobiles  to  see  if  we  could 
run  across  a  few  friends. 

Llewellyn  Shortbrow  made  a 
mistake  with  his  machine  and 
ran  across  a  stranger,  hitting  him 
just  between  the  wish-bone  and 
the  Casino. 

The  stranger's  leg  was  broken, 


JOHN  HENRY  ON  SOCIAL  AFFAIRS   83 

which  put  the  laugh  on  Llewel- 
lyn. 

The  next  evening  Cecil  Van- 
wigglevandoozen  gave  us  one  of 
the  most  delightful  experiences 
I  have  ever  known. 

It  was  a  monkey  dinner. 

A  monkey  dinner  consists  of  a 
happy  mixture  of  Society  and 
monkey— with  just  a  trifle  more 
Society  than  monkey  to  give  it 
the  proper  flavor. 

The  idea  of  the  monkey  dinner 
originated  in  a  fertile  spot  in  the 
southeastern  part  of  Vanwiggle- 
vandoozen's  brain,  which  up  to 
then  was  supposed  to  be  extinct. 

The  eruption  of  such  a  gigan- 
tic idea  from  a  brain  supposed  to 
be  extinct  came  as  a  great  but 
pleasant  shock  to  Society. 

Originally  it  was  Vanwiggle- 
vandoozen's  idea  to  have  Clar- 
ence Fussyface  play  the  monkey, 


84  SKIDDOO 

because  Clarence 's  intelligence 
is  built  on  a  plan  to  suggest  such 
mimicry,  but  a  hand-organ  pro- 
prietor by  the  name  of  Guissepi, 
who  is  summering  at  Newport, 
came  to  the  rescue  with  a  real 
monkey  by  the  name  of  Claude. 

Claude  has  acted  for  many 
years  as  a  second-story  man  for 
Guissepi,  and  is  one  of  the  very 
best  ice-cutters  in  the  whole  mon- 
key business. 

A  full  dress  suit  was  made  for 
Claude,  and  when  he  entered  So- 
ciety you  could  tell  at  once  that 
he  was  not  a  waiter. 

Claude  was  placed  at  the  head 
of  the  table,  and  as  he  sat  there 
smiling  at  his  friends  it  made  one 
of  the  sweetest  pictures  of  family 
contentment  I  have  ever  wit- 
nessed. 

There  were  no  set  speeches. 

Vanwigglevandoozen          gave 


JOHN  HENRY  ON  SOCIAL  AFFAIRS   85 

Claude  a  glass  of  champagne, 
which  the  guest  of  honor  politely 
refused  by  spilling  it  down  the 
neck  of  Harry  Pifflemind  in  such 
an  artless  monkey  way  that  the 
other  guests  roared  with  delight. 

With  monkey  signs  Claude 
gave  the  signal  to  rush  the 
growler,  which  was  accompanied 
with  a  true  spirit  of  goodfellow- 
ship  by  the  butler. 

The  conversation  during  the 
dinner  hour  was  altogether  of  a 
zoological  nature. 

Claude  displayed  an  acrobatic 
appetite  and  went  down  the  line, 
from  soup  to  nuts,  in  a  manner 
which  was  captivating  in  the  ex- 
treme. 

After  completely  filling  the 
large  inside  pocket  originally 
built  for  him  by  Mother  Nature, 
Claude  began  to  put  the  knives 


86  SKIDDOO 

and  forks  in  the  pockets  of  his 
full  dress  suit. 

This  was  greeted  with  ringing 
cheers  from  those  present. 

The  only  break  that  Claude 
made  during  the  dinner  was  try- 
ing to  put  his  feet  on  the  table 
before  the  ladies  left  the  room, 
but  Llewellyn  Shortbrow  reme- 
died this  by  hitting  Claude  on  the 
chest  with  a  table  spoon. 

When  the  other  young  men  be- 
gan to  smoke  their  cigarettes 
Claude  grew  uneasy. 

After  they  had  consumed  about 
seven  sticks  apiece  Claude  buried 
his  face  in  a  foaming  stein  of 
beer,  and  there  it  remained  until 
a  happy  unconsciousness  put  him 
down  and  out. 

Eight  footmen,  six  coachmen, 
twenty-seven  valets  and  the  but- 
ler carried  Claude  to  his  bed- 
chamber, and  the  monkey  dinner 


JOHN  HENRY  ON  SOCIAL  AFFAIRS  87 

broke  up  with  loud  cries  of  * '  Au- 
thor! Author!  Author! 

Vanwigglevandoozen  is  now 
the  hero  of  the  day,  and  great 
things  are  expected  of  him. 

But  I  have  my  doubts. 

It  is  too  much  to  expect  one 
brain  to  think  up  another  idea 
as  good  as  that. 

***** 

Yesterday  afternoon  at  2:30  a 
loud  shriek  emanated  from  the 
"  Bungalooza  Villa,"  followed 
almost  immediately  by  its  pub- 
lisher, Mrs.  Shinevonboodle. 

Both  the  shriek  and  its  author 
came  out  as  far  as  the  gate  and 
attracted  the  ears  of  a  policeman. 

"  My  diamonds  have  been 
stolen!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Shine- 
vonboodle, excitedly. 

"  For  publication  purposes  or 
for  pawning?"  inquired  the  po- 
liceman. 


88  SKIDDOO 

"  Must  I  tell  you  the  details 
without  first  being  introduced  to 
you?"  said  Mrs.  Shinevonboodle, 
angrily. 

"  Not  unless  you  don't  care  to 
meet  me,"  answered  the  police- 
man. 

"  Mercy!"  said  Mrs.  Shinevon- 
boodle, "  must  I  cross  the  social 
chasm  to  get  those  presents 
back?" 

"  What  kind  of  diamonds  are 
missing?"  inquired  the  police- 
man. "  Are  they  sparklers  or 
shines  ? ' ' 

"  What  is  the  difference?" 
asked  Mrs.  Shinevonboodle, 
haughtily. 

1 '  The  difference  is  about  $95  a 
carat, ' '  whispered  the  policeman. 

' l  The  best  that  money  can  buy 
is  none  too  good  for  me,"  said 
Mrs.  Shinevonboodle,  with  proud 
scorn. 


JOHN  HENRY  ON  SOCIAL  AFFAIRS   89 


t  i 


Yes,  I  noticed  that  by  your 
hair  and  complexion,"  replied 
the  policeman,  politely. 

"  Will  you  find  the  missing 
diamonds,  or  must  I  shriek 
again?"  inquired  Mrs.  Shinevon- 
boodle. 

"  Is  your  photographer  pres- 
ent 1 ' '  demanded  the  policeman. 

"  Do  you  suspect  him?" 
gasped  Mrs.  Shinevonboodle, 
with  a  shudder. 

"  The  photographer  generally 
takes  things,"  answered  the  po- 
liceman. ' '  Otherwise,  how  could 
the  pictures  get  in  the  news- 
papers I ' ' 

"  Heaven  forgive  me  for  this 
oversight,  but  my  photographer 
neglected  to  take  the  jewels  be- 
fore I  lost  them,"  said  Mrs. 
Shinevonboodle,  with  bitter  tears 
in  her  lamps. 

The  policeman  turned  away  to 


90  SKIDDOO 

conceal  his  emotion  and  to  take 
a  pull  at  his  two-for  cigar. 

"  What,  oh!  what  is  to  be 
done?"  wailed  the  helpless 
woman. 

"  Nothing,"  responded  the  po- 
liceman, after  a  miserable  pause. 
"  Without  pictures  of  the  jewels 
to  put  in  the  newspapers  the  sen- 
sation will  be  weak  and  will  wob- 
ble at  the  knees. ' ' 

Mrs.  Shinevonboodle  leaned 
against  the  fence  and  groaned 
inwardly. 

"It  is  too  bad,"  muttered  the 
policeman,  as  he  bit  into  the  two- 
for  cigar  and  walked  silently 
away. 

Mrs.  Shinevonboodle  sat  down 
in  her  most  expensive  flower  bed 
and  wept  bitterly. 

Just  then  the  policeman  came 
running  back. 

"  Perhaps  you  remember  the 


JOHN  HENRY  ON  SOCIAL  AFFAIRS  91 

jewels  well  enough  to  get  a  photo- 
graph from  memory?"  he  sug- 
gested. 

A  smile  chased  itself  over  the 
face  of  Mrs.  Shinevonboodle,  and 
she  picked  herself  up  from  the 
geraniums. 

* (  I  remember  them  perfectly, ' ' 
she  whispered,  "  because  when 
my  husband  got  the  bill  for  them 
he  had  four  different  styles  of  fits 
in  four  minutes.  Three  of  these 
fits  were  entirely  new  and  orig- 
inal with  him,  so  I  remember  the 
jewels  perfectly." 

11  Good!"  said  the  policeman. 
"  I  will  have  18  detectives  and 
219  reporters  up  here  in  ten  min- 
utes. Calm  yourself,  now,  calm 
yourself,  because  what  is  lost 
will  soon  be  found  in  the  news- 
papers. ' ' 

The  policeman  rushed  away  to 
the  telephone,  and  with  a  glad 


92  SKIDDOO 

cry  of  thanksgiving  Mrs.  Shine- 
vonboodle  ran  in  the  house  and 
began  to  beat  Mozart  out  of  the 
piano. 


That's  all  the  Society  news  I 
have  at  present,  John. 

Yours  as  per  usual, 

BUNCH. 


CHAPTER    VII 

JOHN  HENRY   ON  CHAFING  DISHES 

I  PULLED  a  wheeze  on  Bunch 
Jefferson  a  few  weeks  ago 
that  made  him  sit  up  and 
scream  for  help. 

Bunch  is  the  Original  Ace  all 
right,  all  right,  but  it  does  put 
dust  on  his  dignity  to  have  any- 
body josh  his  literary  attain- 
ments. 

Bunch  can  really  sling  a  nasty 
little  pen,  but  he  isn't  anybody's 
John  W.  Milton. 

Not  at  all. 

He  can  take  a  bunch  of  the 
English  language  and  flatten  it 
out  around  the  edges  till  it  looks 


94  SKIDDOO 

quite  poetic,  but  that  doesn't 
make  him  a  George  0.  Khayaam. 

Not  at  all. 

The  trouble  with  Bunch  is  that 
his  home  folks  have  swelled  his 
chest  to  such  an  extent  by  petting 
his  adjectives  that  he  thinks  he 
has  Shakespeare  on  a  hot  skiddoo 
for  the  sand  dunes,  and  when  it 
comes  to  that  poetry  thing  he 
thinks  he  can  make  Hank  Long- 
fellow beat  it  up  a  tree. 

Bunch  lives  out  in  Westchester 
County  in  one  of  those  hand- 
painted  suburbs  where  everybody 
knows  everybody  else's  business 
and  forgets  his  own. 

Bunch  and  Alice  joined  the  lo- 
cal club,  of  course,  and  whefl 
Bunch  read  some  of  his  poetical 
outbursts  at  a  free-and-easy  one 


JOHN  HENRY  ON  CHAFING  DISHES     95 

evening,  Society  got  up  on  its 
hind  legs  and  with  one  voice  de- 
clared my  old  pal  Jefferson  to  be 
the  logical  successor  to  Kobert 
H.  Browning,  Sir  Walter  K. 
Scott,  Bert  Tennyson,  or  any 
other  poet  that  ever  shook  a 
quill. 

Bunch  began  to  fancy  himself 
some— well,  rather! 

When  Peaches  and  I  went  out 
Westchester  way  a  few  weeks 
ago  to  spend  a  week-end  with 
Bunch  and  Alice,  all  we  heard 
was  home-made  poetry. 

When  Bunch  wasn't  ladling 
out  impromptu  sonnets,  Alice  was 
reading  one  of  his  epics  or  throw- 
ing a  fit  over  a  "  perfectly 
lovely  "  rondeau— whatever  that 
may  be. 


96  SKIDDOO 

Even  at  meal  times  Bunch 
couldn't  break  away. 

With  a  voice  full  of  emotion 
and  vegetable  soup  he  would  ex- 
claim: 

And  now  the  twilight  shadows  on 
The  distant  mountain  flutter, 

And   thou,    my   fair   and    good 

friend  John, 
Wilt  kindly  pass  the  butter! 

What  are  you  going  to  do  with 
a  man  who  has  a  bug  like  that  ? 

What  would  you  do,  if  while 
sitting  at  breakfast  with  an  old 
chum,  he  suddenly  yelped  in  ac- 
cents wild: 

The    palpitating   Elsewhere 

shrinks 

Before     that     glamorous 
host, 


JOHN  HENRY  ON  CHAFING  DISHES    97 

Eftsoon,     aye,     now,     good 

friend,  methinks 
That  thou  would 'st  have 
more  toast! 

It  was  clearly  up  to  me  to 
hand  Bunch  a  good  hard  bump 
and  wake  him  up  before  that 
poetry  germ  began  to  bite  his 
arm  off. 

Bunch  told  me  that  in  response 
to  the  urgent  demands  of  his 
Westchester  friends,  he  contem- 
plated getting  out  a  little  book 
of  his  poems,  and  this  was  my 
cue. 

I  figured  it  out  that  the  an- 
tithesis of  a  book  of  poetry  would 
be  a  cook  book,  so  I  hustled. 

In  a  few  days  I  had  the  book 
framed  up;  a  few  days  later  it 
was  printed,  and  before  very 


98  SKIDDOO 

long    Bunch's    "Westchester    so- 
ciety friends  were  grabbing  for 
what  they  supposed  was  his  fe- 
verish output  of  poesy. 
This  is  what  they  got: 

A  GUIDE  TO  THE  CHAFING 
DISH. 

BY  BUNCH   JEFFEKSON 

(From    Recipes    Furnished    by 
Famous  Friends.) 

In  presenting  these  Cuckoo 
Recipes  for  the  Chafing  Dish  to 
his  friends  Mr.  Jefferson  wishes 
it  distinctly  understood  that  all 
doctors'  bills  arising  from  a  free 
indulgence  in  any  of  the  dishes 
suggested  herein  must  be  paid  by 
the  indulgee,  and  he  wishes  to 
state,  further,  that  while  this 
book  may  contain  many  aches 
and  pains  no  ptomaine  is  in- 
tended. 


JOHN  HENEY  ON  CHAFING  DISHES    99 

MOCK  BAKED  BEANS. 

(From  a  Recipe  furnished  by 
Morton  Smith.) 

Take  as  many  buttons  as  the 
family  can  afford  and  remove  the 
thread.  Add  pure  spring  water 
and  stew  gently  till  you  burst 
your  buttons.  Add  a  little  flour 
to  calm  them  and  let  them  sizzle. 
Serve  with  tomato  ketchup  or 
molasses,  according  to  the  loca- 
tion you  find  yourself  living  on 
the  map.  A  quart  bottle  of  Pom- 
mery  on  the  side  will  help  some. 

MOCK  HAM  AND  EGGS. 

(From  a  Recipe  furnished  by  De 
Wolf  Hopper.) 

Place  the  white  of  a  newspaper 
in  the  frying  pan,  and  then  cover 
the  centre  with  an  Italian  sunset 
picked  fresh  from  a  magazine 


100  SKIDDOO 

picture.  This  forms  the  basis  of 
the  egg  and  it  tastes  very  real- 
istic. Be  sure  to  get  a  fresh  news- 
paper and  a  fresh  magazine, 
edited  by  a  fresh  editor,  other- 
wise the  imitation  egg  will  be 
dull  and  insipid.  Now  add  a  few 
slices  of  pickled  linoleum  and  fry 
carelessly  for  twenty  minutes. 
Serve  hot  with  imitation  salt  and 
pepper  on  the  side.  This  is  a  day- 
light dish,  because  the  sunset  ef- 
fect is  lost  if  cooked  after  dark. 

MOCK  LAMB  CHOPS. 

(From  a  Recipe   furnished   by 
William  T.  Hodge.) 

Saw  away  three  chops  from 
the  face  of  the  kitchen  table  and 
put  them  in  the  broiler.  Be  eco- 
nomical with  the  sawdust,  which 
can  be  forced  into  a  cottage  pud- 
ding. When  the  chops  begin  to 


JOHN  HENRY  ON  CHAFING  DISHES  101 

sizzle,  add  a  red  necktie  and  a 
small  bunch  of  imitation  butter 
and  stir  gently.  Now  let  them 
sizzle.  If  the  chops  crack  across 
the  surface  while  cooking,  it  is  a 
sign  you  were  cheated  when  you 
bought  the  kitchen  table.  Let 
them  sizzle.  Serve  hot  with  imi- 
tation water  cresses  on  the  side. 
Nice  water  cresses  can  be  made 
from  green  window  blinds  cut  on 
the  bias. 

HAMBURGER  STEAK. 

(From  a  Recipe  furnished  by  Sil- 
vio Hein.) 

Always  be  sure  to  get  a  fresh 
Hamburger.  There  is  nothing 
that  will  reconcile  a  man  to  a 
vegetarian  diet  so  quick  as  an 
over-ripe  Hamburger.  They 
should  always  be  picked  at  the 
full  of  the  moon.  To  tell  the  age 


102  SKIDDOO 

of  a  Hamburger  look  at  it 's  teeth. 
One  row  of  teeth  for  every  year, 
and  the  limit  is  seven  rows.  Now 
remove  the  wishbone  and  slice 
carefully.  Add  Worcester  sauce 
and  let  it  sizzle.  Add  a  pinch 
of  potato  salad  and  stir  gently. 
Serve  hot  and  talk  fast  while 
eating. 

IMITATION  SAUSAGES. 

(From   a  Recipe   furnished  by 
Frank  Doane.) 

Coax  a  few  feet  of  garden  hose 
into  the  kitchen  and  then  kidnap 
it.  When  it  is  finally  subdued, 
chop  it  into  sections  and  stuff  it 
with  odds  and  ends.  Nice,  fresh 
odds  and  ends  may  be  bought  by 
the  wholesale  at  any  first-class 
junk  shop.  Place  the  result  in  a 
saucepan  without  adding  any 
water,  because  if  you  put  water 


JOHN  HENRY  ON  CHAFING  DISHES  103 

in  with  the  garden  hose  it  will 
get  up  and  go  out  on  the  lawn. 
Now  let  it  sizzle.  When  the  imi- 
tation clock  points  to  an  hour 
and  a  half  the  sausage  is  done. 
Serve  hot  with  a  Yarmouth 
bloater  and  some  crumpets  on 
the  side.  Be  sure  to  have  a  gold 
safety  pin  in  your  flannel  collar 
before  eating. 

IMITATION  CELERY. 

(From   a  Recipe  furnished  by 
John  Park.) 

Take  an  old  whisk  broom  and 
remove  the  handle.  If  the  handle 
is  made  of  wood  keep  it,  because 
it  can  be  turned  into  a  breakfast 
food  the  first  time  you  see  a  saw- 
mill. Now  remove  the  wire  from 
the  broom  and  sprinkle  with  bak- 
ing soda.  Serve  cold  with  a  pinch 
of  salt  on  the  northwestern  end. 


104  SKIDDOO 

IMITATION  BEEF  TEA. 

(From  a  Eecipe  furnished  by 
Rupert  Hughes.) 

Take  the  white  of  an  egg  and 
beat  it  without  mercy.  When  it 
is  insensible  put  it  in  the  teapot 
and  add  enough  hot  water  to 
drown  it.  Let  it  drown  about 
twenty  minutes,  then  lead  the 
yolk  of  an  egg  over  to  the  teapot 
and  push  it  in.  Season  with  a 
small  pinch  of  paprika  and  let  it 
simper.  Serve  hot,  and  always 
be  sure  to  put  a  piece  of  lemon 
in  the  finger-bowl. 

IMITATION    MOCK    TURTLE 
SOUP. 

(From  a  Recipe  furnished  by 
John  L.  Golden.) 

Go  out  in  the  garden  and  catch 
a  young  mock.  Remove  the  pin 


JOHN  HENRY  ON  CHAFING  DISHES  105 

feathers  and  place  the  mock  in  a 
skillet.  Catch  an  onion  when  it 
isn't  looking  and  push  it  in  the 
skillet.  Add  water  and  let  it  siz- 
zle. Add  more  water.  Be  sure 
there  are  no  chemicals  in  the  wa- 
ter. Add  more  water.  Always 
wash  the  water  before  adding. 
Now  upset  the  skillet  into  the 
soup  tureen  and  add  imitation 
Tabasco  sauce.  Imitation  Ta- 
basco sauce  can  be  made  from 
pickled  firecrackers.  Serve  hot 
and  keep  the  lips  closed  firmly 
while  eating  it  from  the  left-hand 
side  of  the  spoon. 

IMITATION  ROAST  BEEF. 

(From  a  Recipe  furnished  by 
E.  W.  Kemble.) 

Draw  from  memory  the  out- 
lines  of  a  cow  and  remove  the 
forequarter.  Place  the  forequar- 


106  SKIDDOO 

ter  on  the  gridiron  and  let  it  siz- 
zle. Now  brown  the  wheats  and 
draw  one.  Add  boiling  water 
and  stir  gently  with  an  imitation 
spoon.  After  cooking  two  hours 
try  it  with  the  can-opener.  If  it 
breaks  the  can-opener  it  is  not 
done.  Let  it  sizzle.  When  the 
supper  bell  rings  serve  hot  with 
imitation  pickles  on  the  side. 
Nice  pickles  can  be  made  from 
green  trading  stamps,  but  be 
careful  to  squeeze  out  all  the 
premiums  from  the  green  trading 
stamps  before  using,  because  the 
premiums  are  full  of  ptomaine. 

IMITATION  EOAST  TUEKEYv 

(From  a  Recipe   furnished  by 
Dr.  Percy  Crandall.) 

Find  a  copy  of  a  Thanksgiving- 
Day  newspaper  and  select  there- 
from the  fattest  turkey  on  page 


JOHN  HENRY  ON  CHAFING  PISHES  107 

3.  Now,  with  a  few  kind  words, 
coax  the  turkey  away  from  the 
newspaper  in  the  direction  of  the 
kitchen.  Care  should  be  taken 
that  the  turkey  does  not  escape 
in  the  butler's  pantry  or  fly  up 
the  dumb-waiter,  because  the  tur- 
key is  a  very  nervous  animal. 
Once  you  get  the  turkey  in  the 
kitchen  lock  the  door  and  prepare 
the  stuffing.  The  best  stuffing 
for  a  turkey  is  chestnuts,  which 
you  can  obtain  from  any  author 
who  writes  musical  comedy.  Now 
remove  the  wishbone  carelessly 
and  make  a  wish.  Add  twenty- 
four,  multiply  by  nineteen,  and 
sprinkle  with  salt.  Then  rush 
the  turkey  over  to  the  gas  stove 
before  it  has  a  chance  to  change 
it's  mind.  Let  it  sizzle  for  four 
hours  and  serve  hot  with  jib 
cocktails  and  Philippine  napkins 
on  the  side. 


108  SKIDDOO 

MOCK  COFFEE. 

(From   a  Recipe   furnished  by 
Daniel  V.  Arthur.) 

Get  mad  at  a  piece  of  bread  and 
soak  it.  Chop  it  up  fine  and  add 
liquid  water.  Let  it  sizzle.  Stir 
it  caressingly  with  a  wooden 
spoon.  When  the  spoon  becomes 
a  brunette  the  coffee  is  done. 
Serve  without  splashing  it  and 
add  a  little  cold  water,  painted 
white,  to  look  like  milk.  If  you 
have  any  tame  cheese  in  the  pan- 
try now  is  the  time  to  whistle  for 
it. 

MOCK  GIBLETS. 

(From   a  Recipe   furnished  by 
Edward  Abeles.) 

Take  two  rubber-neck  clams 
and,  after  stuffing  them  with  pea- 
nuts, fry  them  over  a  slow  fire. 


JOHN  HENRY  ON  CHAFING  DISHES  109 

Now  remove  the  necks  from  the 
clams  and  add  baking  soda.  Let 
them  sizzle.  Take  the  juice  of  a 
lemon  and  threaten  the  clams 
with  it.  Serve  hot  with  pink 
finger-bowls  with  your  initials  on 
them.  Some  people  prefer  to 
have  their  initials  on  the  clams, 
but  such  an  idea  is  only  for  the 
wealthy. 


MOCK  BREAKFAST  BACON. 

(From  a  Recipe   furnished   by 
A.  Baldwin  Sloane.) 

Take  a  hatful  of  pine  shavings 
and  remove  the  hat.  Add  a  little 
sherry  wine  and  sweeten  to  taste. 
Let  them  sizzle.  Sprinkle  with 
salt  and  pepper  and  other  cos- 
metics. Let  them  sizzle.  Serve 
cold  with  shredded  onions  on  the 
side. 


110  SKIDDOO 

MOCK  BEEF  STEAK. 

(From  a  Recipe   furnished  by 
Joseph  Coyne.) 

Carefully  remove  the  laces 
from  an  old  shoe  and  put  them 
away,  because  they  can  be  used 
for  shoe-string  potatoes  just  as 
soon  as  the  potato  trust  gets 
started.  Beat  the  shoe  with  a 
hammer  for  ten  minutes  until  its 
tongue  stops  wagging  and  it  gets 
black  and  blue  in  the  face.  Then 
put  in  the  frying  pan  and  stir 
gently.  When  it  begins  to  sizzle 
add  the  yolk  of  an  egg  and  season 
with  parsley.  Imitation  parsley 
can  be  made  from  green  wall  pa- 
per with  the  scissors.  If  there  is 
no  green  wall  paper  in  the  house 
speak  to  the  landlord  about  it. 
Let  it  sizzle.  Should  you  wish  to 
smother  it  with  onions  now  is 
your  chance,  because  after  cook- 


JOHN  HENRY  ON  CHAFING  DISHES  111 

ing  so  long  it  is  almost  helpless. 
Serve  hot  with  a  hatchet  on  the 
side.  If  there  are  more  than  four 
people  in  the  family  use  both 
shoes. 

IMITATION  IEISH  STEW. 

(From   a  Recipe   furnished  by 
Charles  Swayne.) 

Eemove  the  jacket  and  waist- 
coat from  a  potato  and  put  in  the 
saucepan.  Add  three  quarts  of 
boiling  water.  Get  a  map  of  Ire- 
land and  hang  it  on  the  wall  di- 
rectly in  front  of  the  saucepan. 
This  will  furnish  the  loc  1  color 
for  the  stew.  Let  it  boil  two 
hours.  When  the  potato  begins 
to  moult  it  is  a  sign  the  stew  is 
nearly  done.  Walk  easy  so  as  not 
to  frighten  it.  Add  a  pint  of  rhu- 
barb and  serve  hot  with  lettuce 
dressing.  If  the  lettuce  isn't 


112  SKIDDOO 

dressed  it  ought  to  be  ashamed 
of  itself. 

IMITATION  PRUNE  PIE. 

(From   a   Recipe   furnished  by 
George  W.  Lederer.) 

Take  a  dozen  knot-holes  and 
peel  them  carefully.  Remove  the 
shells  and  add  a  cup  of  sugar. 
Stir  quickly  and  put  in  a  hot 
oven.  Bake  gently  for  six  hours 
and  then  add  a  little  Jamaica  gin- 
ger and  some  pickled  rag-time. 
Serve  hot  with  tea  wafers  on  the 
side. 

I  haven't  seen  Bunch  since  the 
book  came  out. 

But  I  know  he  will  get  back  at 
me  good  and  hard  some  of  these 
fine  days. 

23 


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published.  It's  popularity  since 
then  has  been  unprecedented. 

"  John  Henry's  philosophy  is  of  the  most 
approved  up-to-date  brand.  He  is  by  all 
odds  a  young  man  of  the  period;  he  is  a 
man  about  town.  He  is  a  slang  artist;  a 
painter  of  recherche  phrases;  a  maker  of 
tart  Americanisms. 

In  this  book — it  is  "little,  but  oh  my!" — 
John  Henry  recounts  some  of  his  adven- 
tures about  town,  and  he  interlards  his  des- 
criptive passages  with  impressive  comments 
on  the  men,  women,  institutions,  and  places, 
brought  within  his  observant  notice.  We 
need  not  say  that  his  comments  are  highly- 
colored;  nor  that  his  descriptions  are  r 
markable  for  expressiveness  and  colloquial 
piquancy.  Mr.  Henry  is  a  sort  of  refined 
and  sublimated  type  of  "Chimmie  Fadden," 
though  there  is  by  no  means  anything  of  the 
gamin  about  him.  He  doesn't  speak  in  rich 
coster  dialect  such  as  is  used  by  Mr.  Town- 
send' s  famous  character,  nor  is  he  a  mem- 

i 


ber  of  the  same  social  set  as  tke  popular 
hero  of  the  New  York  slums.  Mr.  Henry 
m«ves  on  a  higher  plane,  he  uses  good 
English — mostly  in  tart  superlatives — and 
his  associates  are  of  a  high  social  scale. 

Mr.  Henry's  adventures  as  he  describes 
them  here  will  make  you  wonder  and  make 
you  laugh. 

His  book  abounds  in  bon-mots  of  slang; 
of  the  kind  you  hear  in  the  theatres  when 
the  end-men,  comedians  and  monologuists 
are  at  their  wittiest  and  best,  when  they 
revel  in  mad  and  merry  extravagances  of 
speech  and  experience. 

It  is  an  art  to  use  street-talk  with  force 
and  terseness,  and  although  it  isn't  the  most 
elegant  phase  of  the  Queen's  English  it 
nevertheless  impresses  to  the  Queen's  taste. 
Hugh  McHugh  has  this  art."— Philadelphia 
Item. 

"  John  Henry  "  is  only  one  of  the  numer- 
ous young  men  who  are  treating  the  public 
to  the  latest  slang  through  the  medium  of 
print  nowadays,  but  he,  unlike  most  of  the 
others,  is  original  in  his  phrases,  has  the 
strong  support  of  the  unexpected  in  his  hu- 
mor and  causes  many  a  good  laugh.  For 
one  thing,  he  merely  tries  to  make  fun, 
wisely  avoiding  the  dangers  of  tediousness 
li 


in  endeavoring  to  utter  immature  wisdom  in 
the  language  of  the  brainless. 

"  The  author,  Huph  McHugh,  is  thought 
to  be  Mr.  George  V.  Hobart.  Certain  it  is 
that  the  writer  is  a  Baltimorean,  past  or 
present;  the  local  references  evidence  that. 
In  some  places  the  expressions  have  the 
Hobart  ring  to  them.  But  if  Mr.  Hobart 
did  write  the  stories,  he  has  done  his  best 
work  of  the  kind  yet." — Baltimore  Herald. 

"  The  humor  is  of  the  spontaneous  sort 
that  runs  close  to  truth,  and  it  affords  many 
a  hearty  laugh." — Cleveland  World. 

"  As  a  study  in  slang  it  surpasses  any- 
thing since  the  days  of  '  Artie.'  " — The 
Rocky  Mountain  News. 

"  Written  in  the  choicest  slang."— Detroit 
Free  Press. 

"  John  Henry."  A  regular  side-splitter, 
and  as  good  as  "  Billy  Baxter." — New  York 
Press. 

"  It  is  as  good  as  any  of  the  books  of  its 
Kind,  better  than  most  of  them,  and  is 
funny  without  being  coarse." — Portage 
Register. 

iil 


" I'm  from  Missouri"  fully 
kept  up  the  reputation  of 
the  John  Henry  books. 
From  the  day  it  was  pub- 
lished, for  six  months  fol- 
lowing, there  was  no  let- 
up in  the  popular  demand 
for  it. 


CONTENTS   OF 
"I'M    FROM    MISSOURI." 

JOHN  HENRY  MAKES  A  CHOICE. 
JOHN   HENRY   MAKES  A   STATEMENT. 
JOHN   HENRY   MAKES  A  SPEECH. 
JOHN   HENRY   MAKES   A  COMPACT. 
JOHN   HENRY   MAKES   A  NOTE. 
JOHN   HENRY   MAKES  A  HOLIDAY. 
JOHN  HENRY  MAKES   A  MAYOR. 

ii 


"John  Henry  in  the  role  of  campaign 
manager  as  he  appears  in  'I'm  from  Mis- 
souri,' is  the  same  breezy,  unconventional, 
amusing  personage  we  have  known  in  years 
past.  He  always  keeps  abreast  of  the  times, 
in  the  very  van,  in  truth.  His  language  is 
up  to  date,  he  gathers  no  moss,  he  is  al- 
ways doing  and  saying  the  unexpected,  and 
somehow  he  always  manages  to  win  out. 
The  book  is  full  of  fun  and  cannot  fail  to 
make  many  new  friends  for  the  inimitable 
John  Henry  and  his  wife,  Clara  J.,  or 
Peaches." — Newark  Evening  News. 

"A  quantity  of  choice  and  original  slang 
is  poured  forth  in  a  bewildering  stream  in 
this,  the  seventh,  volume  of  '  John  Henry,' 
whose  author  bids  fair  to  rival  she  of  the 
'  Elsie '  books  in  his  penchant  for  clinging 
to  one  character.  The  description  of  the 
hero's  trials  with  the  various  cooks  and  the 
burlesque  directions  for  running  an  auto- 
mobile are  mildly  amusing.  Here  is  a  sam- 
ple :  '  I  gave  him  his  final  instructions. 
Now,  Uncle  Peter,  I  said,  grab  that  wheel 
in  front  of  you  firmly  with  both  hands  and 
put  one  foot  on  the  accelerator.  Now,  put 
the  other  foot  on  the  rheostat  and  let  the 
left  elbow  gently  rest  on  the  deodizer.  Keep 
the  rubber  tube  connecting  with  the  auto- 
iii 


matic  fog-whistle  closely  between  the  teeth, 
and  let  the  right  elbow  be  in  touch  with 
the  quadruplex,  while  the  apex  of  the  left 
knee  is  pressed  over  the  spark-coil  and  the 
right  ankle  works  the  condenser.  Start  the 
driving  wheels,  repeat  slowly  the  name  of 
your  favorite  coroner  and  leave  the  rest  to 
fate ! '  "—The  Designer. 

" '  I'm  from  Missouri '  presents  John 
Henry  as  campaign  manager  for  '  Uncle 
Pete,'  who  is  running  for  mayor  against 
'  Uncle  William,'  backed  by  '  Bunch.'  The 
reappearance  of  these  well-known  char- 
acters brings  joy  to  the  hearts  of  the 
laughter-loving  public,  and  as  a  political 
satirist  the  author  wins  out  once  more. 
Most  funny  men  lose  their  originality,  but 
Hugh  McHugh  is  ever  ready  with  some- 
thing new.  He  is  slangy  and  thoroughly 
up-to-date,  but  never  coarse." — Bookseller, 
Newsdealer  and  Stationer. 

"Those  who  enjoy  the  John  Henry  books 
may  count  upon  a  most  enjoyable  evening 
when  reading  No.  7  of  the  series,  just  out. 
As  a  story  this  is  the  best  of  the  seven,  and 
in  quaint  conceptions  and  expressions  it  is 
fully  as  clever  as  any  of  its  six  predeces- 
sors."— Four-Track  News. 


"I  NEED  THE  MONEY"  was  a  big 
winner  from  the  jump.  The  interest  taken 
in  the  Series  of  "John  Henry"  books  by  the 
general  public  is  really  remarkable. 


CONTENTS  OF 
'I  NEED  THE  MONEY." 

JOHN  HENRY'S  PAL. 
JOHN  HENRY'S  PLAN. 
JOHN  HENRY'S  PICNIC. 
JOHN  HENRY'S  PLUNGE. 
JOHN  HENRY'S  PIPE. 
JOHN  HENRY'S  PILGRIMS. 
JOHN   HENRY'S  PIE. 


What  the  Critics  Say. 

The  author  of  "  I  Need  the  Money,"  the  new 
"John  Henry"  book,  who  is  George  V.  Hobart, 
a  former  Baltimore  newspaper  man,  is,  beyond 
doubt,  one  of  the  most  popular  of  modern  slang 
humorists;  more  so,  probably,  than  Ade,  and 
with  his  "  Dinkelspiel"  stuff  almost  as  much  as 
Dunne. — Brooklyn  Eagle. 

George  V.  Hobart,  the  New  York  journalist, 
is  a  versatile  humorist.  As '  'Dinkelspiel"  he  is  an 
irresistibly  funny  German,  full  of  philosophy  but 
hopelessly  tangled  in  his  rhetoric.  As  the  author 
"John  Henry"  and  other  humorous  productions 
he  has  been  an  acute  man  of  the  street  and  of 
the  rapid  avenues  of  life  with  all  the  up-to- 
dateness  of  slang  that  is  one  of  the  chief  con- 
comitants of  such  worldly  wisdom.  Mr.  Hobart 
therefore  has  strings  enough  to  his  bow  to 
warrant  the  prediction  that  he  will  wear  much 
longer  than  the  average  funny  man  has  lasted 
under  the  strain  of  humor  to  order.  The  G.  W. 
Dillingham  Company  has  just  issued  a  volume  of 
"  Eppy  Grams  by  Dinkelspiel"  that  is  full  of 
laugh  from  cover  to  cover,  and  another  ' '  John 
Henry"  book,  entitled  "  I  Need  the  Money,"  in 
which  readers  can  find  delight  in  Mr.  Hobart's 
humor  in  the  other  vein.  The  pages  of  the 
"  Dinkelspiel  "book  are  brightened  with  borders 
of  red,  and  the  other  book  is  illustrated. 

— Milwaukee  Wisconsin, 
3 


"  It's  Up  to  You !"  is  the  third  book 
in  the  John  Henry  series.  This 
story  of  domestic  bliss  relates 
the  adventures  of  John  Henry dur= 
ing  his  courtship  and  marriage. 

"  It's  Up  to  You ! "  has  been  pro- 
nounced by  critics  everywhere 
the  funniest  book  of  the  year. 

It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  there 
is  a  laugh  in  every  line  for  this 
fact  is  amply  demonstrated  by  the 
enormous  demand  for  the  book. 

CONTENTS  OF  "IT'S  UP  T<? 
YOU  I" 

JOHN  HENRY'S  COURTSHIP. 
JOHN  HENRY'S  WEDDING. 
JOHN  HENRY'S  HONEYMOON  TRIP. 
JOHN  HENRY'S  SEASHORE  VISIT. 
JOHN  HENRY  HUNTS  A  FLAT. 
JOHN  HENRY  ENTERTAINS  FRIENDS 
JOHN  HENRY  PLAYS  PING  PO»TG. 


" '  It's  Up  to  You '  stares  out  from  the 
yellow  cover.  From  a  mere  passing  sight 
at  the  familiar  cheese-cloth  binding  and  the 
portrait  of  the  faultless  gentleman  in  the 
choker,  one  might  easily  think  it  was  an 
old  wandering  copy  of  the  original  'John 
Henry  ';  one  hardly  dares  hope  it  is  a  new 
edition  of  that  worthy's  confidence.  But 
it  is.  And  John  Henry  stabs  us  with  his 
sentiment  He  commences  :  '  Seven  of  us 
were  entered  in  the  race  for  Clara  J.'s 
affections.'  Then  he  delightfully  tells  us 
how  he  won  out  from  the  '  other  six  society 
shines. '  The  chapter  explaining  his  method 
of  dragging  papa's  and  mama's  consent 
away  from  them  is  clogged  with  many 
smiles,  and  before  the  finish  of  the  honey- 
moon trip,  the  '  holler '  is  certainly  •  Up  to 
You ! '  After  a  bit  John  Henry  hunts  a  flat 
The  finding  of  the  flat  is  the  richest  slice 
of  the  book.  He  does  more — he  lives  in 
it — with  the  consent  of  the  folks  above  and 
below;  he  entertains  and  concludes  the 
third  little  volume  of  his  spicy  adventures 
with  a  game  of  ping-pong.  Now,  never 
mind — All  men  make  mistakes. 

44  We  have  not  heard  near  so  much  about 
John  Henry  as  we  have  of  ping-pong ;  we 
hope  to  learn  more  of  the  former, 


3 


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